I'd Come For You
by flashpenguin
Summary: Reese and Joss survived Simmons's ambush, and HR is dead and gone. But is it? Quinn's made off with millions, but leftover HR mongrels want it, and will stop at nothing to get it back...even using Quinn's daughter as bait. With danger closing in, Joss is forced to guard her nemesis's offspring. Will Reese and the team be able to save them both? *COMPLETE!*
1. Chapter 1

_I am taking a HUGE risk by even attempting to take on this story. For some reason I feel that everything I've accomplished in the past 4 years is at stake the moment I post this story. But on the other hand, it was inspired by a full-length dream and it is demanding to be told or else! So, that said, I have to weigh my credibility against sleep._

_I do not own "Person of Interest", but the characters will own this story if I succeed. On the other hand, if I fail, I own it…lock, stock, and barrel!_

**_Song prompt: "I'd Come For You" by Nickleback._**

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

_You're being watched…_

Tucked away in a high rise in the middle of downtown New York City, three well dressed men sat in a spacious office that was lit by a single lamp, but they were oblivious to the dimness. What should have been a friendly get together was shadowed by feelings of revenge and animosity. And they all had one mission: To find and destroy the man who had ruined their lives and fortunes.

"Quinn's going to pay for what he did to us," the first impeccably dressed man growled. Outfitted in an expensive suit, he looked more like a Wall Street executive than an underworld boss. But where there should have been some kind of understanding in his eyes, pure hatred burned instead.

"It was out of his control," the second well dressed man defended. Just as impeccably dressed as his colleague, his eyes held the same menacing look, but his eyes were also focused on the man in the chair across from him. "He did the best he could."

"The best he could?! He allowed himself to be captured, and then he struck a deal with the Feds that put him in WITSEC! Now he's hiding away under a false name with _our _money!" The first man stated menacingly, his jaw clenched in rage. Standing up, he paced the floor.

"I knew we should have taken him out when we had a chance. But no, you wanted him to live," he continued, pointing to his companion. "You wanted him to live so he could take us to the money. Instead, what does he do? He steals…from _us_!"

"He could still lead us to the money."

The first man spun around. Incredulity replaced the anger. "And how do you expect that to happen when we don't know where he is? He could be anywhere!"

"I have friends in the FBI…" The second man offered up his plan, but was abruptly cut off.

"Yeah," the first man snorted sarcastically. "_You_ have _friends_. That doesn't help _us_ find _our_ money."

The clearing of a throat stopped the bickering. "Your first mistake was putting your trust in Quinn to begin with," the older man behind the desk stated in a tone that was both cultivated and no nonsense. His finger was pointed at the first man. "You knew he was corrupt and he couldn't be trusted – he did execute his own godson. Did you really think that he would treat his associates any differently?"

"He made us a promise!"

"Promises were made to be broken," the older man replied evenly. "You made your bed by allowing him to get the best of you, and now the money is gone. You have two options, as far as I can tell. The first one is: you can admit that you made a mistake and lay in the bed you made." He templed his fingers under his chin and surveyed the two men before him.

"The second one is: you find a way to get our money back. Or I will find a way to get it back from you."

The first man stood stock still. His eyes bounced from the man behind the desk to the man on the couch. Fear of the unspoken threat was enough to chill his blood, but he didn't let it show. He would only accept his fate _after_ he ran out of options.

"How do you propose for me to do that?" he returned with false bravado. It didn't slip past his sharp ears as a pistol was cocked. He had no doubt in his mind that the barrel was aimed at him.

The older man gave an indifferent shrug. What did he care about feelings now that his money was gone? "You're a smart man, figure it out. But if you want a suggestion, I would say you start with his family."

"Most of his family is dead or relocated," the first man protested. "That doesn't give me many options to locating the money. And if he put it in Swiss bank accounts, we are going to need him, not his family."

"Then you flush him out of hiding," came the short reply tinged with exasperation.

The first man snorted. "He won't come out for a bank account."

"No," the man behind the desk nodded in agreement, "he won't. But he will if you use his daughter as bait."

Silent understanding filled the tense room as the mood changed immediately from betrayal to revenge. "And you think that will make him break his cover and come out?"

"Men in WITSEC have done so for less. He holds his family in high esteem. He'll do the same."

"Like he held his godson? Cal Beecher wasn't feeling the love when he was ventilated. What makes you think that Quinn's loyalties lie stronger with his blood?" First man scoffed with disgust.

"Every father holds his daughter in high esteem. And I can't see Quinn being any different. When he hears his little girl's life is in danger, he'll either come out, or he will surrender the account. And then, you know what to do."

"Are you sure?" The second man spoke up. He had done his share of killing, and he had no regrets. But when it came to women…he had to draw the line somewhere. "She may not have anything to do with it."

"She's Quinn's blood, and that makes her as guilty. Though it is not the son's sin to take on when his father does wrong, a father should know better than to lay his sin upon his children." The boss looked at his men. "You're not going to have a problem with this, are you?"

"I'm afraid of drawing in unwanted attention. He has a marshal side-kick who follows him everywhere. They aren't going to just let him out of their sight. And they are sure to smell a set-up from a mile away."

"Then I suggest that you find a way around that small obstacle. I don't need to remind you both that millions of dollars are on the line." He gave a dramatic pause. "Along with your lives." It was not a threat that was made lightly, nor in jest, and the sound in the room was deafening.

The two men looked at one another. Some lines were meant to be crossed when honour and integrity were at stake. And this was one of it.

"Blood is thicker than money, gentlemen. That's why there is no room for error. I want my money back."


	2. Chapter 2

_So, this story has been haunting me all week...even with a split double that managed to wipe me out! The bad news is that there is another split double on the horizon for this week, too! But I promise to post something before then. That said, I hope that you don't mind me opening the story with CAREESE - after all, it is their story. Don't get too wrapped up in the feel good because there IS going to be conflict. The good news is that I know who the bad guys are! And I have a pretty good guess you do, too! But we'll get to that later. Enjoy!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

_**Six weeks later...**_

Joss Carter huddled deeper into her coat as the bitterly cold New York City wind whipped between the buildings and carried flakes of snow to dust the sidewalks. Breathing out, she took a little pleasure in the way her breath turned to vapor. Sure it was a childish thing to do, but not if there was a possibility of never being able to do it again. As others complained about the long winter and prayed for summer, Joss was grateful for the moment. She vowed never to complain about the seasons...even if the city got below freezing in winter and sweltered in the summer.

Climbing the stairs to the double doors of the precinct she never expected to see again, her eyes took in every single item. She was home! She looked at her watch. Okay, she was a couple of hours early, but that was alright; she could enjoy the quiet before the first shift arrived.

Shrugging out of her coat and scarf, Joss hung them on the back of her chair and noticed the brown bag and large cup of coffee on her desk. She shook her head in disbelief and chuckled. He could still find the little ways to amaze her.

"Good one, John," she mumbled. Her heart picked up the pace as her eyes darted around the room. _Was he watching her?_

At that exact moment, her phone rang.  
****

Tucked against a tall building across the street from the precinct, John Reese still found it easy to blend into the crowd – though maybe the dusk seemed to aid in his surveillance.

Dressed conservatively in a long coat to protect his trademark suit, he kept his eyes trained forward. He barely registered the noise as the city slowly came to life, nor did he feel the rush of the people as they hurried past him – he was concentrating on a more important target.

From his corner, he watched as Joss Carter hurried up the steps toward her precinct and thru the double doors. He dialed his phone and put it to his ear. "Good morning, detective," he greeted with undisguised pleasure.

"Good morning, John," Joss sat down and opened the bag. "I still don't know how you manage to get in here without anyone seeing you."

"Trade secret."

"I suppose that trade secret is tied in with mind reading." Carefully she removed the plastic lid from the cup and sipped. Perfect. "How did you know that I take it with cream, no sugar?"

"Hmmm," he replied noncommittally.

"You're up early. Getting a head start on the bad guys?" she teased and looked toward the door way. Nowhere to be seen, but she knew he was out there just watching – her very own guardian angel.

"I just wanted to say that it's good to have you back," he smiled. Hearing her voice was enough to make his day.

Joss grinned. "It's good to be back." Even the stack of folders on her desk wasn't enough to dampen her mood. She had missed everything from the lousy coffee to the constant noise, but she was back. And God willing, she was never going to leave it again.

"Do you think that New York survived without us being gone for two months?" Reese asked tongue in cheek. He rubbed his gloved hands together as the cold wind whipped around him. The temperature seemed to be dropping, but she was worth it.

"Oh, I'm sure that Fusco held down the fort while we were out," she said and cast a glance at her partner's desk. He had one more week of convalescence, and she had no doubt that he was spending those days with Lee.

"So, what are you doing up early?" Reese prodded. "I thought you still had another couple of weeks of medical leave?"

A sharp pain caused Joss to draw in a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she counted to ten. Slowly she sipped the hot coffee and began to relax.

"Heh. I had to get out of the house. I love my mother, but…" she confessed with a shake of her head. "The four walls were slowly closing in. I had to leave or go crazy." She didn't go into detail how her mother had taken it upon herself to wait on Joss hand and foot. "She means well, but I had to get out of there or go crazy."

Reese knew how suffocating a room could become while lying in a bed with nothing to do. He had been there too many times to count. Of course, this time, Joss was waiting for him. His heart began to beat a little faster. He still dreamed of her lips on his, and the way she looked up at him with those big brown eyes full of questions that he wasn't sure he could answer.

Even now he wasn't sure if he had the answers, but after cheating death for the umpteenth time – and almost losing her – he was ready to explore the unknown. But he couldn't tell her that…not right now. They both had to heal first.

"What are you doing up so early?" Joss returned. "Doctor give you the clearance to go back to kicking the bad guy's ass?"

"Almost," he confessed and rotated his left shoulder. The bullet had torn up the muscle pretty good, but his rotator cuff had been spared. "Like you, I needed some fresh air. How about dinner? Tonight?" he asked out of the blue.

Joss bit her lip. She didn't want to think that there could be anything more to Reese's invite, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive. After all, his kiss still haunted her.

"I'd love to, John," she sighed, "but I know that there is a mountain of paperwork on my desk. I-I want to tackle that before I go home tonight."

"I understand." And he did. More than she could know.

"But I'll take a rain check," she added quickly.

"I'll hold you to it."

"Stay out of trouble," she ordered. "Though I know you won't."

Reese chuckled and hit the button in his earwig to disconnect the call. He hit it again when it beeped. "Good morning, Finch. You're up early," he greeted his friend.

"I wanted to get an early start on the day. I see you had the same idea." Finch measured the dog kibble and poured it into Bear's dish. Eagerly, the dog devoured his breakfast. "How is Detective Carter?" Finch asked as he carefully lowered himself into the office chair and turned on the computer.

"She talked the doctor into granting her a light duty chit so she could go back to work. She should be taking it easy," Reese argued.

"As should some other people I know," Finch replied evenly. He knew better than to try talking his best friend out of doing something once his mind was set. All he could do was hope that the numbers continued to come in sporadically. So far, Shaw had held down the fort – he wasn't complaining - but for how long?

The computer buzzing drew Finch's attention to the monitor. A series of numbers scrolled across the screen.

"I'm feeling better. Besides, didn't you tell me that the numbers never stop coming?" Reese returned back in kind his employer's motto.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Reese, you still need to think about your health. It won't do anyone any good if you get reinjured." Finch's fingers flew over the keyboard as he pieced together the cryptic clues the Machine had given him.

Reese appeared bemused by the statement. "I almost think you care, Finch."

"Well, it appears to be your lucky day; a number has come in. A car jacking is about to go down three blocks from your location. I'm sending you the information right now."

Reese looked down the moment the alert came in. "I'm on my way."

"Be careful, Mr. Reese."

An enigmatic smile was Reese's only response.


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, so the new chapter is up and I couldn't hide the bad guys' identities any longer. All of them are revealed in this chapter. So, I had to tackle Shaw…well, honestly, I don't care one way or the other for the character – although she DID save Fusco's son. It took everything I had to get into her head and see things from her point of view. And in the process, I think I managed to make her a bit human. I hope I don't disappoint._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

The innocent was saved, and John Reese's good deed for the day was done.

Standing outside opposite the police precinct, he kept an eye on the double doors while keeping himself out of the wind. Sure it was colder than a witch's ass and he could be inside where it was warm, but he didn't mind doing a little surveillance where Joss was concerned. Besides, there was no where else he would rather be.

Though his mind was concentrated elsewhere, his senses were still on high alert and didn't miss the stealth way the dark figure crept up beside him.

"Shaw," he acknowledged, keeping his eyes forward.

"John," Shaw returned in monotone. "I thought you had another week to convalesce."

"My doctor gave me an early release."

"Your doctor needs to give you a kick in the ass."

"That's a unique bedside manner. I can see why you went free lance," Reese quipped.

Shaw's only response was a smirk followed by a sarcastic snort. Turning her head, she cast a glance at the building across the street. "How is Joss?"

"Fine." No other explanation was needed, so he left it there.

"Heard you took out a bad guy this morning. Guess you didn't need any help. Still…you could have called me."

"No need." Reese rubbed his hands together and shrugged. "I took care of him. But he won't be car-jacking anyone again."

Shaw considered her response. "I see you're getting your superhero powers back." Reese turned to look at her. "What? I can crack a joke."

"Must be my lucky day."

"Speaking of lucky day, I heard that you dropped a little something off for Joss this morning."

"I did." Reese didn't elaborate.

"And," she continued, "I heard that you asked her out." Reese raised his eyebrow in her direction. "Hey, I may not be able to feel emotion like a normal person, but I know how to blue-jack a phone. I think you need to ask her again."

"I can do this. Without help."

"I'm sure you can, but even superheroes need help. I think you both need a push in the right direction."

"I have a job, Shaw. I can't afford to allow personal feelings to get mixed in with obligations," Reese stated, but even to his ears the excuse sounded hollow. Maybe five years ago he felt that way, but now… Things had changed while being trapped in the morgue. He had opened up to someone in a way he never could have imagined. And so had Joss.

"I may not look it, but I do know how to have fun," Shaw replied as the wind whipped a lock of hair across her face. Impatiently she pushed it behind her ear. She caught Reese's surprised look. "Okay. Maybe it's not your idea of fun, but it works for me."

The silence stretched between them as the crowds rushed past.

"I never thanked you for helping me," Reese grudgingly offered the thanks.

"You're welcome. I'm not sure how Finch would have dealt with the alternative. That goes for Fusco, too."

"I'm sure Bear would have missed me," Reese groused as a smile tugged at his lips. He was teasing with Shaw. Maybe his near death experience had caused a shift in the universe, he mused.

Shaw appeared nonplussed by the comment. "Bear would've gotten over it. But I know someone who wouldn't have," she left the rest unsaid but nodded toward the police station. Taking his cue, Reese turned to leave.

"You should do something nice for her," Shaw called out. "Hell, it might surprise both of you."

Turning his collar up against the freezing wind, Reese shoved his gloved hands deeper into his coat pockets and walked away. But his mind was spinning.  
****

"Have you found her yet?" the voice on the other end of the phone line boomed.

"We have a lead." Nervous fingers fiddled with the pen. He could wish for a better answer, but that was all they currently had.

"What about Quinn? Have your guys gotten back to you with his location?"

"I have a guy trying to infiltrate the WITSEC database. We should have something in a couple of days. If that fails, we can try hacking the FBI and get their records."

"What about the money?"

"We have an idea where it might be, but nothing solid."

"I want that money, and I want to know where Quinn is. And I want it by the end of the day!"

"We're working on it, sir," empty words used to placate the very man who could order his demise. But there was nothing else he could offer.

"I don't want to hear how you're 'working on it'; I want results. I want my money. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Pen forgotten, all attention was on the veiled threat.

"Do I need to remind you what is at stake if you fail me?"

A pause.

"I will bring everything you've requested to your office, Mr. Griffin."

"Tonight. No excuses."

There was no mistaking the slamming of the phone on the other end. No sooner was the receiver placed on the cradle when it rang.

"Bogle, here. You better have something for me," he growled.

"We think we found Quinn's daughter."

"Where?" Bogle grabbed the pen and scribbled the address relayed on the other end. "Is she there now?"

"She's at work. I don't think it would be wise to hit her there."

"No. It would cause too many problems. We need to get her isolated and then grab her." Bogle looked at his watch. "Assemble a couple of guys and I'll call you in an hour."

"Got it."

"And Clark?"

"Yes?"

"Don't fail me." Bogle disconnected before hearing the response. Smiling maniacally, he leaned back in his chair. "This is going to be a piece of cake."


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry to make you all wait for this update. Been pulling a couple of extra shifts at work, and doubles eventually catch up and turn one's brain into mashed potatoes! You'll be happy to know that I have taken the time to outline the next few chapters because I just found out that I have to pull another double! I promise to post as soon as I can. That said, I hope my version of Alonzo Quinn works. If it doesn't, PLEASE let me know._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Arizona was too damn hot for a man like him, Alonzo Quinn told himself as he sat on the porch of the quaint house he now occupied.

"More like hell," he groused under his breath and took a sip of the lemonade he hoped would cool him down. Looking around at the rustic neighbourhood set in the middle of nowhere, he compared New York to where he was now: Open blue skies, very little trees, less crowded, and clean air. Strange lizards that could give some sewer rats a run for their money seemed to have a population of their own—and in his house! First time he'd seen one, he nearly had the hell scared out of him. And yes, there were the spiders and the lack of trees, but that wasn't what bothered him, it was the heat! Lots of heat!

"Yeah, I'm in hell." He set the glass down on the table with more force than he intended and caused the liquid to slosh over the rim. "Damn it!" Reaching for a towel, he tied to sop up the mess.

"Good morning, Gery," a voice greeted behind him. "Or should I still call you Alonzo?"

"Call me any damn thing you want to; this heat is killing me," Quinn returned briskly. Finished cleaning, he threw the towel on the ground near the back door. Turning around, he gave a snort at the man dressed in a Navy blue suit and tie.

"From what I heard, this is just preparation for the real thing," the agent quipped.

"Do I know you?"

"Agent Hewitt." The man extended his hand. "I'm your new handler."

Quinn eyed the gesture with a wary eye. "I didn't know the old one was getting replaced. Let me see some credentials," he nodded toward the suit jacket of the agent. "And take it out slowly; no tricks."

Agent Hewitt kept one hand raised in the air as the other searched for his billfold tucked neatly inside a hidden pocket. Once he extricated it, he tossed it onto the patio table. Nonplussed, he mentally counted the seconds while his charge carefully scrutinized every single detail on his ID.

Satisfied, Quinn tossed it back at the agent. "So, this is how all you boys work around here? Switch people out at the drop of a hat without any warning?"

"You act as though your life is on the line."

"I wouldn't be in WitSec otherwise. The least you could have done was give me a little warning. We didn't run things this bad in the precinct."

"If you say so," Hewitt returned without much emotion. He was well versed on the case and knew it inside and out. He knew about the organization "HR", and he knew about the confirmed and suspected links to the Russian mob and the other groups linked to the dark underbelly of organized crime. In truth, it disgusted him. But he wasn't here to like or not like the man – that wasn't his job. The job was protecting him and making sure he left his stupid tendencies back where he came from before innocent people died.

"What's the latest news?" Quinn prodded for any information he could extract. Just because he was no longer in the loop of things didn't mean that he didn't want to know what was happening.

"New York is surviving just fine without your influence."

"So you say." Quinn wiped the sweat from his forehead. "This fucking heat is going to kill me," he grumbled. "When do I get to choose somewhere that isn't hot?"

Hewitt didn't blink. In fact, he was almost amused by the demand. "What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know." Quinn poured himself another glass of lemonade and sat down. "Maybe Montana. Just make it where there are four seasons."

"I don't think you'd fit in."

Quinn snorted and sipped his lukewarm drink. "I don't care where I 'fit in'; I want the fuck out of here. I have rights."

"Your 'rights' went out the window the night you ordered a New York detective to be shot and aided in the murder of a judge. You don't get 'rights' any more," Hewitt leveled back in an even tone.

"So, what do I get?" Quinn shot back.

"You get a second chance. Take it, Alonzo or Gery or whatever your name is. You were given the right to move on. How many of your victims got that second chance?" Hewitt shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "No one is forcing you to stay here; you can pick up and move to Montana. We're just not paying for it." He turned to leave.

"I want to see my daughter," Quinn's request was so low it was barely audible.

Hewitt stopped, turned around. "Excuse me?"

"I want to see my daughter." Quinn stood up and met the other man eye to eye. "I want to know she's alright."

Hewitt shook his head. "We can't do that. You know the rules. No contact."

"Rules are meant to be broken."

"Not this one. You signed on the dotted line and accepted everything that went into changing your life and leaving your past behind," Hewitt stated evenly.

"I know what I said, but I have to know if she's okay," Quinn pleaded passionately. "Just get one letter to her. That's all."

"Can't do it."

"One letter. I'll never ask for anything again."

"Not even a move to Montana?" Hewitt couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Look. I can play politics with the best of them, and I know how to play the game. I haven't asked for anything since I came to this godforsaken hell four months ago. I want one request honoured." Opening the sliding glass door, Quinn stepped into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. Extracting an envelope, he walked back to Hewitt.

"What is that?" Hewitt eyed the white envelope with apprehension.

"I want this sent to my daughter. No questions asked. You don't even have to put my name on the outside." Quinn pressed it into the other man's hand. "Get it to her."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I think her life is in danger."

"Has someone contacted you?" Hewitt pressed. "Have you received something that we need to know about? A letter? A note?"

Quinn turned around so his back was facing. He was not going to let some rookie federal agent see him cry. "Let's just say that I have a gut feeling about this."

"If someone from the outside has contacted you, you have to let us know."

"If someone contacts me, I will take care of it. Now you deliver that letter to my daughter."

Hewitt tapped the envelope against his hand. What was being asked of him was against protocol and could ultimately lead to disciplinary actions and/or a dismissal. This was his life. There was no way a criminal was going to dictate to him procedure.

"I can't make any promises," Hewitt finally conceded. "But I will do the best I can. You do realize that if the higher-ups get wind of this I can be terminated?"

Quinn slowly turned around. Hardened determination replaced the tears of anguish. "And if you don't, my daughter could die. Do you have a daughter?"

Hewitt put the letter in his pocket. "I will see you next week to finish out my report and help you finish settling in." He stuck out his hand. Quinn ignored the gesture. He knew when he had been dismissed. Without another word, he opened the door and departed.

Quinn waited until he heard the car engine start, then fade away. Sitting down at the table, he pushed the glass away and buried his face in his hands. Yes, he had done a lot of wrong things in his lifetime, but God help anyone who decided to harm his daughter.

He pulled the letter out of his pants pocket. Unfolding the paper, he read the words aloud.

"_You have what we want. We have what you want. An exchange is only fair. We'll be in touch. Don't try to run; we have eyes on you."_

Crumpling the note in his hand, Quinn stared up at the blue clear sky. Had his chickens finally come home to roost?


	5. Chapter 5

_Okay, I have no excuse for making you wait so long for an update. But I have been working a lot of hours the past two weeks, and I am in the process of writing another story for CRIMINAL MINDS, so I've been busy. And maybe it's for the best because it is so difficult to write Finch…so it's a good thing he started talking to me this morning._

_P.s. I have to mention this now and nip a rumour in the bud: Although I have been crowned the "Queen of Twists", there will be no secret revelations or unexpected twists and turns in this story. I am going to deliver a love story filled with drama and angst and revenge that leads to a happy and satisfying ending._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

_One week later…_

"Morning, Carter," Lionel Fusco greeted his partner as he walked over to her desk to hand her a cup of coffee. "Thought you might need this."

"Thanks, Fusco." Joss pried off the lid and sipped the scalding liquid. Just the way she liked it, but not as good a the cup left on her desk a week ago. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." He flexed the fingers on his right hand. "Getting the reflexes back in my fingers, although the doctor thinks it's going to be a while before I can take up boxing again," he joked. "How are you?"

"Sore, but better. I'm glad to be back."

"It's good to be back," he agreed and sipped his coffee. "So, what's going on between you and Wonder Boy?" Fusco asked and took his place behind his desk. Reaching over, he turned on the computer monitor and waited.

"You mean John?" she asked. Fusco nodded. "Heh. What makes you think there is anything going on?" Joss deflected without blinking an eye.

Fusco settled his reading glasses on his nose. "I figured since he hasn't been hanging around lately… You two still talking?"

"And if we are?"

Fusco nodded his approval. "Good. After what happened with Simmons, I was hoping you two might have crossed some bridge or something. After all, you saved his life and he saved yours."

"We survived an ambush, Fusco; I hardly think that warrants us becoming best friends," Joss tried to defuse the moment by keeping her eyes on the paperwork before her. She could trust her partner with her life, but she couldn't confide in him what transpired between her and John that night in the morgue.

"Friendships have been started on less," Fusco pointed out. "All I'm saying is you and he look good together."

Surprised, Joss stopped what she was doing and raised her head sharply. "We look good together? What is that supposed to mean?"

Fusco shrugged. "What it means. Look, Carter, I'm a detective whose job is to find answers and look for the truth. I know that there is something between you and John – even if you can't. Trust me on this. And considering what he did to help you bring down HR, I think you should thank him."

"Well," Joss hesitated. She wondered if it was safe to confide one of her secrets in Fusco. "He did ask me out to dinner."

Surprised by the admission, Fusco removed his glasses. "Did you accept?"

"No, I didn't."

"Why not? I'm sure Mr. Vocabulary would be willing to pick up the tab," he teased.

"It's not that easy."

"Everything _is_ that easy," he contradicted. "After all you both have been through, you deserve a night out without bad guys trying to ruin it. Call him back and accept."

Joss shook her head and gave a short laugh. "When did you become an authority on relationships?"

Fusco smiled. "Shhh. That's a secret I don't want getting out."

"Trust me, Fusco, no one would believe me if I told them," she lightly teased. She looked at the clock on the wall. "Time to get to work."

Fusco replaced his glasses and opened the cold case folder on his desk. "Call him."

"Hmmph," was Joss's only reply.  
****

Hearing the familiar footsteps coming down the hall, Bear jumped up from his plush bed and ran over to greet his master.

"Hello, Bear," Reese greeted the canine and unlocked the gate with one hand while balancing the pink pastry box with his other. Bear barked his own greeting in return. Shoving the keys in his pants pocket, he pulled the gate back.

"_Volg. Zit._" Immediately Bear obeyed and assumed the position, but his tongue wagged in anticipation of the treat he knew was coming.

Reese opened the lid and took out the small doggy pastry. "Here you go." Bear swallowed it in one gulp. "Good boy," Reese praised and rubbed the dog's head.

"I'm in here, Mr. Reese," Finch's voice carried down the passageway.

"You're in early," Reese acknowledged. "Don't tell me the Machine kicked out a bunch of numbers."

"Just one, but Ms. Shaw is taking care of it," Finch replied, his fingers flying over the keyboard with expertise. "A banker in Long Island whose wife decided a divorce would take too long."

"Don't they always?" Reese quipped. He set the box down on the corner of the desk. "I brought breakfast. And yes, I picked up some _croquillants_ just for you."

Impressed, Finch raised an eyebrow. "Thank you." He opened the lid. "I'm sure Bear got his treat?"

"Always."

Finch took the rich pastry and bit into it. Delicious. "I've been thinking, Mr. Reese…"

"Should I be afraid?" Reese gently smiled.

"I think you should ask Detective Carter out."

"So that's a yes?"

"I know you already have…"

"And she turned me down."

"Ask her again."

Intrigued, yet confused, Reese cocked his head. "Are you saying that I should ask Carter out?"

Finch thought it over for a full second. "Yes."

"Finch, I'm surprised at you."

"Why?'

"What happened to never getting personally involved with a number?"

"Joss isn't a number. And considering all you both have been through, maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a night off and enjoy yourselves." Finch wiped his hands on a serviette, then began typing. "I have made reservations for you at The Grande for eight o'clock."

"Harold…" Reese protested.

Keeping his eyes concentrated on the monitor screen, he continued inputting information. "I would suggest you wear a tie tonight."

Reese could sense that he had been defeated soundly. "I don't get a say in this, do I?"

"The blue tie to match your eyes and the grey shirt."

"Are you positive there isn't a number? Maybe someone is being dangled off the Brooklyn Bridge who needs our help?" Reese wondered hopefully.

"Ms. Shaw and Detective Fusco will take care of it should it arise."

Reese shook his head. "I'll need a car."

"Already arranged under John Warren."

"You thought of everything, haven't you?"

Finch stopped typing. "Not everything." Reese raised both eyebrows in surprise. "It will be up to you to show her a good time."

Grabbing a donut, Reese took a bite. "Thanks, Finch." Turning on his heel, he made his way down the long passageway, turned the corner, and disappeared.

A smile danced on Finch's lips. "Don't mention it, Mr. Reese."


	6. Chapter 6

_I hope you forgive me for taking so long to post this. My family suffered a senseless tragedy, and though it didn't directly affect me, it did hurt. That said, I have tried 17 different ways to write the date, but nothing seemed to click. In the end, I decided to combine three versions into one and add a little romance at the end. And no, for the record, there will be NO pregnancy plot bunnies. No, no, and nope._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Their steps matched perfectly, Reese and Joss walked down the path beside the Hudson Bay. The lights of Manhattan glowed brightly against the pitch black night sky.

"Thank you for dinner," Joss said as she burrowed herself deeper into her coat. The breeze over the water was light, but it held just enough of a chill to belie the actual temperature.

"Finch made the reservations," Reese replied. It didn't escape his notice when Joss shivered. Ever so slightly he moved closer to her to block the wind. "It's his favourite restaurant," he added.

"He has good taste. I'll have to thank him later."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"I think Bear is going to like his doggy bag," Joss remarked.

"I'm sure he will," Reese agreed and slowed his pace as they approached the end of the path. Stopping, they both leaned against the railing and watched silently as the lights of the yachts slowly passed by.

"What are your plans?" Reese inquired finally breaking the silence.

Joss shrugged. "It's a long weekend, and Taylor is going to spend the time with his father. So, I guess I'll be alone. What about you? Plan on kneecapping some bad guys?"

"Lately the numbers have been sporadic, so I'm taking the time to recover. Shaw seems happy enough taking on the extra work, so I won't deny her," he spoke admirably of his partner, but his eyes were on Joss.

"How is work?" Reese asked politely.

Joss gave a sardonic smile and shrugged indifferently. "It's good. The doctor wants to give me another week of light duty."

"You're not happy."

"I want to be out there making a difference. Being stuck behind a desk all day doing paperwork is not what I signed up for," she stated not bothering to disguise her frustration.

"Maybe you should take it easy for a while, Joss," Reese placated. "It won't make a difference in the level of crime if you are out for another week."

"You're a fine one to talk about taking it easy," Joss returned. "You have had how many close calls, yet you go out and catch the bad guys?" She turned her head to the breeze to help move the lock of hair from across her cheek.

"It's different."

"How?" she asked with a slight snort.

"Taylor."

Damn him, she thought to herself. He knew her too well.

"I want to make the world a safer place for him. For all kids."

"And you will, Joss," Reese assured gently. He reached out to move her hair. Ever so slightly his fingertips brushed against her skin. The second they touched, he felt a jolt of electricity – the same one he had felt in the morgue that night.

Joss's breath caught sharply. She tried to look away before Reese could see the flash of want in her eyes. "Well, until then, Fusco is making the collars with a temporary partner."

"I checked him out; he's a good cop."

In astonishment, Joss's mouth fell open. "You checked on the new guy taking my place?"

"I wanted to make sure Fusco stays on the straight and narrow now that he's become the hero of the 8th," Reese said with a cheeky smile.

"He's embarrassed by the attention. I think he'll be happy when this all blows over." Joss brought her hands to her lips and blew on them before rubbing them together.

"He single-handily brought down Simmons; I think he deserves the accolades."

Joss nodded. "It was brave of him. Speaking of Simmons, any idea where the Feds took Quinn?"

"Finch has been searching the databases for anything, but…" Reese's voice trailed off. He couldn't lie and lead her on, but neither was he sure what would happen if she knew the truth.

"You're afraid of what I would do."

"I know that you would abide by the oath you took," Reese deflected easily.

"My oath isn't just words, John, I have sworn to protect and serve. You think that I would hunt him down and make him pay." She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill the breeze brought from across the water.

Reese tried not to get on the defensive as he replied, "I didn't say that, Joss."

"You didn't need to. Honestly, I don't know what I would do if I ever saw him again. That is why I pray every night that I never know where he is or what he's doing." Her fist clenched as the anger slowly took over.

Reese's eyes were gentle with understanding. "I know, Joss. Trust me. I have been in your shoes. Revenge is only sweet to those who have no heart." He took her hands in his to keep them warm.

Joss shivered, but if it was from the cold or Reese's touch, she wasn't sure. Or maybe she didn't want to know. "I hope our paths never cross again," she murmured.

"Maybe he's in an Illinois federal prison in a cell next to Noriega," Reese wistfully offered his own idea of their nemesis's fate. He still held Joss's hands in his, but neither moved to break away. With a little tug, he pulled her closer to him.

"About that night in the morgue…I've been thinking a lot about what happened." He cupped her cheek and stroked her soft skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Me too." She felt his arm go around her waist. Her heart raced with anticipation. "John…" she protested softly, but didn't try to pull away. Her eyes looked into Reese's blue ones. He was going to kiss her, and she wanted it.

A sudden jolt pushed them together. Joss felt Reese's arms go around her.

"Sorry," a male voice apologized. "Didn't see you there."

Reese only nodded his response. "Are you alright?" he asked Joss.

"Yeah," she replied and took a deep breath of the cold air to help cool her blood down.

"It's getting late. I'll take you home."

A smile hid her disappointment. "Thanks." With his hand firmly on the small of her back, he guided her to the car.  
****

"It was nice of you to see me to the door, John." Joss inserted the key into the lock and gave it a turn.

"Need to make sure that you arrived home safely," he replied simply.

Joss turned the knob and pushed the heavy oak door open. Turning quickly, she disengaged the alarm. "I think I could handle it." Taking off her coat, she hung on the hook beside the door.

Reese followed her inside and closed the door quietly before throwing the lock. "I want to make sure." He looked around the tastefully furnished room and felt a twinge of jealousy. This was Joss's home – her home with her son. Her family.

Joss nodded toward the couch. "You might as well make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink?"

Reese took a seat on the high back chair. "What do you have?"

"Coffee, power drinks, and orange juice. Welcome to the household of single parent and teenage son," she quipped.

He threw her a smile. "Coffee would be great."

"Okay." She turned to leave the room. "Do you think you should check in with Finch?"

"I'm sure he knows where I am." Reese's trained eye scoped out the room for anything out of order. Finding nothing, he rubbed his hands over his slacks and tried to relax.

Not bothering to turn on the overhead light, Joss flicked on the one over the stove. She couldn't see wasting the electricity since she could make coffee in the dark. Grabbing the container of Folgers, Joss measured the grounds and filled the coffee pot. She wasn't sure why she had offered John a reason to stay, but now that she had, anything to take her mind off the fact that he was in the living room was first on her list.

As the coffee brewed, she pulled down the mugs and placed them on the counter. Opening the fridge, she called out, "How do you take it?" Her hand searched for the bottle of flavoured creamer she kept for guests.

"What?" Reese strained his head to hear what Joss said.

"How do…" She reached for the bottle on the back of the second shelf, then straightened up, "…you take…" Her question was lost as she turned around and bumped into Reese. With shakey hands, she held on as his arm went around her waist to steady her.

"Joss," his warm breath fanned her face as he spoke her name. She felt so soft against his hard frame. And God forgive him, but he wanted her.

Joss tried to swallow, but her mouth went dry. By the streetlights, she could see the way his eyes narrowed. She could feel his body against hers. She tried to think of something to say to defuse the situation, but her mind went blank.

"John…I…" Her breathing was shallow, but her heart was racing.

"I want you." His arm tightened to pull her hard against him. "God help me, Joss, I want you." He tilted her face up to his. "I want to make love to you." His body hardened at the thought of being one with her.

"I…"

"Kiss me, Joss," he groaned before covering her mouth with his. It took everything he had not to devour her as his tongue outlined the seam of her lips, but the moment her tongue met his, he lost control.

Weaving his hands in her hair, he kissed her with a passion that both scared and thrilled him. He needed her in a way he had never needed a woman. Grounding his erection against her, he thought she might pull back. Instead, she kissed him back until they both had to come up for air.

As the pungent smell of coffee filled the air, Reese swung Joss into his arms. He didn't need directions to her bedroom, as he hurried down the hall to the door at the far end. Using his foot, he kicked the door closed, then laid her on the bed.

Their fingers fumbled as they hurriedly tried to remove the layers of clothing preventing them from getting closer. Piece by piece each article fell to the floor to form a haphazard pile. As the last piece landed, Reese joined Joss.

Lips meeting, hands stroking, they let passion overwhelm them as their bodies yearned to get closer. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the room.

"Joss, I want you," Reese spoke against her skin as he trailed kisses from her lips to the valley between her breasts. Caressing the twin mounds, he dipped his head and took a pert nipple in his mouth. Suckling gently, he felt himself harden as her moans reached his ears.

"Sweet. So sweet." Moving to the right, he took the other nipple between his lips and tasted her. Joss arched as the fire he was creating spread from her belly through out the rest of her limbs.

"John…oh, God…" She couldn't breathe, couldn't think; he was driving her out of her mind as his hands touched her intimately over every inch of her body.

Reese slipped a finger inside her warm, wet core, taking pleasure in the way she drew in a sharp breath. He set the pace for her to follow, watching as her hips undulated. She was so wet for him, and his body throbbed with need, but it was about her. He could wait for his own completion while he brought her to hers.

Faster his fingers moved inside of her. Joss cried his name, her fingers dug into his shoulders to hold on as the orgasm built inside and threatened to decimate her. She wanted to hold on, but it was overwhelming her to the point that when she said his name, it came out on a sob. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he pressed his thumb against the little pink nub of her desire.

Joss felt herself falling fast with no way to hold on. But just before she crashed, she felt Reese's arms go around her. "Shhh…" he soothed as he kissed the tears from her cheeks.

Shifting his weight, he settled between her thighs. "Joss…"

"I'm safe," she assured him. Her palm cupped his cheek. Rough and smooth at the same time – just like him, she mused.

"Me too." Taking her hand, Reese pressed it to his lips. "I want you to look at me," he said.

Her big brown eyes smoldered with desire as they met with Reese's blue ones. Then he slowly made them one.


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry this took so long to post. My man Fusco decided to talk to me and no matter how much I try, I can't deny him. Well, here is the morning after. Meanwhile, the bad guys have been thwarted and they aren't happy. Hope you enjoy._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Morning sunlight streamed thru the big windows of Joss's kitchen. Outside the birds chirped their songs from the trees to greet the beautiful Saturday.

Standing next to the stove clad in his t-shirt and dress slacks, Reese put the finishing touches on the breakfast tray that held orange juice, coffee, homemade pancakes, and strawberries. Nothing fancy, just a simple of way of thanking her for last night.

Setting the rose in the small vase, he nodded his approval. It was perfect. Picking up the tray, he stopped. Creamer! He opened the cabinet and pulled down a couple of packaged creamers and placed them beside the coffee. Now he was ready. Picking up the tray, he walked out of the kitchen.

Stealthily he walked down the short hallway to the master bedroom to where Joss lay sleeping. Scared to ruin the moment, he stopped in the doorway and watched her breathe. So beautiful, he acknowledged, his heart constricted with an emotion he couldn't identify.

Brought out of her deep sleep by a delicious aroma she couldn't put her finger on, Joss stirred and stretched. Blinking twice, she tried to clear her vision.

"John?" she asked groggily.

"Good morning, Joss," he greeted and walked over to the bed with the tray. "How did you sleep?"

"Like a baby," she admitted and sat up. At the last moment she realized she was naked and barely caught the corner of the sheet as it slipped to expose her breast. The night before flashed before her eyes, she ducked her head shyly. "What's that?" Her stomach rumbled.

"Breakfast." Reese set the tray over her lap. "I wasn't sure what you liked."

"You made me blueberry pancakes?" Joss's eyes met his. "I didn't know you could cook." Her fingers brushed against the silverware, unsure whether to eat or bask in the fact that someone had finally brought her breakfast in bed.

Reese shrugged. "Just one of my many talents," he boasted.

Joss blushed and averted her eyes. Last night she had learned about one of his other hidden talents. More than once. "I didn't know I had all of this," she remarked and changed the subject. When had she bought strawberries?

"You didn't. I ran down to the store while you were sleeping." Reese picked up a strawberry from the dish and traced it over Joss's lips. He felt his body stir with desire when she bit into the succulent fruit. With his thumb, he caught the stray line of juice and brought it to his mouth.

"John…" Joss hesitated as she chose her words carefully. "About last night…"

His eyes looked deep into hers. "Are you saying that you regret it?" He didn't believe that she did – not by the way she responded to him. But it was the morning after, and the sun did tend to shine the light on the truth. He kept his expression blank as he waited for her response.

Joss shook her head. "I don't. I think you surprised me again when you…" She looked down at her hands.

"Carried you to the bedroom and made love to you?" he finished with a smile.

"Yes. I wasn't expecting to end the evening that way," she admitted. Reese pressed the strawberry to her lips. She took another bite. Was it her imagination, or was he looking at her with more desire than the law allowed? She swallowed quickly.

"I wasn't either, but I liked it." He brushed the lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Joss, I'm not going to lie. I care about you – I have since the moment I met you. I have wanted to make love to you for the longest time. Tell me that the same thought hasn't crossed your mind."

"John…" How could she tell him about the nights she had lain awake imagining him beside her only to wonder what woman might be holding on to him? How could she tell him about al the fantasies she had that were hotter and more graphic than any romance novel she had ever read? Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath. "More times than you'll ever know," she finally admitted.

"If last night was any indicator, I think I have a pretty good idea." Reese placed the stem on the tray. "I think we've wanted each other since that night in the morgue. Last night was…" He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips, "…making up for lost time."

The small flutter Reese's stubble was causing began to slowly grow into something bigger. Joss tried to keep her thoughts straight, but when he pressed his lips to the pulse in her wrist, she could barely remember her name.

"What if we…?" Her heart fell at the thought of getting too close and losing him. Were they wise to start a relationship that could be torn apart? What if they failed? Neither one had anything close to a successful relationship. He had to know the odds were against them succeeding.

Reese pressed his finger to her lips to stop the flow of words. "We take it one day at a time, Joss. I think we've been given a second chance for a reason. Let's grab it and let the chips fall where they may." Lifting the tray, Reese stood up and placed it on the dresser.

Joss shot him a wanton come hither look as her hand grabbed the waistband of Reese's slacks and pulled him to her. "It's going to get cold," he remarked.

"You can make more," she said and pulled him down on top of her and kissed him silent.  
******

"We can't find her," Clark's voice broke the news hesitantly. He knew the anger he was about to unleash. But that couldn't be helped.

Bogle stopped writing and leaned back in his chair. Fury darted across his face. "What do you mean you can't find her? I was assured – by you – that you had her location. You promised me that she would be in your custody by yesterday!"

"Apparently she moved and didn't leave a forwarding address." Clark looked around at the cluttered one bedroom apartment that had been abandoned in haste. He picked up a picture in a frame and scrutinized it for answers.

"How the hell did you let that happen?" Bogle growled and stood up. He gripped the receiver tightly.

"We think Quinn got word to her that her life might be in danger," Clark replied. He opened the closet and pulled out a box and began rifling thru to find anything…an address book…a letter…anything.

"How the fuck did that happen?!" Bogle shouted. "He's not supposed to make any contact with his family."

"We don't know, but we're looking into it." Clark walked from one room to the other keeping a sharp eagle eye on everything.

"The boss is paying you guys to make sure things like this don't happen. What am I supposed to tell him?" Bogle ran a hand thru his hair.

"We think…"

"I don't want you to fucking think, you moron! I want you to get her so we can dangle her in front of her old man!"

"We can't…"

"Don't fucking tell me what you 'can't'! Do I need to go down there and light a fire under your asses? I will not pay for this! You will find her and bring her to me. Or so help me, I will find someone who can!"

"If we could track down where he set the letter from, we could just nab Quinn," Clark offered up as an olive branch.

"And if you had a brain, you would be dangerous. Holding Quinn isn't going to get us our money. The man doesn't play by the rules, and us threatening his pathetic life isn't going to make him cave. We have to get him where it's really going to really hurt him. In fact, I want the bastard castrated!"

"I was thinking…"

"Clark, I'm going to say this once: Stop fucking thinking and find me Quinn's daughter. Is that understood?"

Clark considered a response, then stopped. "Yes."

"You have forty-eight hours to find her. Is that understood? You fail this and leaving me owing the money, I'll kill you first. Now find the bitch!" Bogle slammed the receiver down hard. "Son of a fucking bitch!"

In a burst of fury, he picked up the phone and threw it against the wall. "This is not happening," he yelled. Everything was going wrong with the plan. Covering his face with his hands, he tried to take a deep breath and calm down. His life was on the line. But if he knew his guys, they would come through and find Quinn's daughter.

Then the games could begin.


	8. Chapter 8

_Okay, I had it to write Quinn's daughter, but then Shaw started a conversation with Reese as I was driving home from my work out this morning. And then one thing led to another…and another…and another. And I totally forgot about Quinn and his family as Reese and Joss decided to make up for lost time. And after the poor writing of their first lovemaking session, they wanted to make up for it. And boy, did they! I have to take a cold shower now before I go to bed!_

_Warning! You made need a LOT of ice cubes and cold water for this chapter. And yes, it's still within a "T" rating._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"You weren't at home this morning," Shaw greeted in her usual monotone as she stood on the roof top of a building during a surveillance assignment.

"I didn't know I was supposed to check in with you, Shaw," Reese replied just as evenly.

"I see your date with Joss went well. Did you manage to behave yourself?"

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I could ask the same thing of you."

"I thought you wanted a little more variety in your job. Don't tell me this is too much for you to handle," Reese smiled wryly.

Shaw raised the binoculars to her eyes to do a sweep. "Never. But if I'm here, who is going to keep you out of trouble?"

"I can handle myself."

"Where is Joss?"

Reese's reply was short and simple, "Busy."

"Hmmm. Will you be back to work on Monday?"

"Missing me already?"

Shaw shrugged indifferently. "I wouldn't go that far. But another couple of days away, I might be able to cite you for abandonment and get full custody of Bear," she stated.

"That sounds like a threat."

"It should."

"I'll be back on Monday," he promised.

"Just make sure you save some of that energy for the bad guys," she quipped.

Reese's finger lingered over the ear bud. "Good-bye, Shaw." He clicked the device off at the same moment Joss stepped outside. "How's Taylor?" he asked.

"He's good. Paul is taking him to a ball game later today. With the long weekend, he won't be back until Monday night," Joss sighed deeply. Why did her baby have to grow up?

"That's good. A son needs to spend time with his dad," Reese remarked with an approving nod. He looked closer at Joss's face. "You're not sure."

She shrugged and looked uncomfortable at the statement. "It's not that, John. Paul is a good man. And when Taylor was a baby, he was a picture perfect dad in every way. It's just…I don't know. Paul hurt us." She sighed heavily and looked away. "I'm afraid."

"It'll be alright, Joss. Paul has come a long way from where he was. You know war is hell, but he's climbing back." He took her hand in his and stroked it lovingly. "Just give him a chance to get to know Taylor before it's too late. Paul is the only father Taylor has."

Joss nodded albeit grudgingly. "I guess you're right. So, who were you talking to?" she changed the subject.

"Shaw."

"Touching base?" she teased and leaned against the railing of her small portico that over looked the small but quaint and immaculate backyard of her brownstone.

"Just her letting me know that she has a handle on things," Reese replied without much enthusiasm.

Joss nodded. "Hmmm," she replied noncommittally. "I guess it would be logical to have you back on the job after all this time. Don't want you to get rusty by not being able to shoot bad guys in the kneecap."

Reese took her hand in his and held it just tight enough to let her know that he was there for her. "I hate to think that crime could be running rampant without me," he stated tongue in cheek.

Joss widened her eyes and gave him a _"you've got to be kidding me!" _look. "Arrogant, just a little? Eh. You're good – maybe even superhero good," she complimented with a snort, "but not that good. If I remember, I had to save your ass a couple of times." She didn't even try to fight the smile tugging on her lips.

Reese straightened up. "Really?" His eyes danced with amusement. "I think I can remember a couple of times I had to swoop in and save you, too." He pulled Joss close to him. He loved the way her body melded to his – almost as though she was made for him.

"What can I say? You got good timing."

"So do you, Detective," he let her title roll off his tongue seductively. His hands lazily stroked her back.

Joss felt a thrilling chill rush thru her body at the way he said the word _Detective._ "Hmmm…that feels good," she murmured and arched into Reese's touch. "Right there."

"Why, Joss, if I didn't know any better, I would think you are trying to get a body massage from me." He had to remember breathe as her hand cupped his erection and wantonly stroked it.

"I interrogate better than I express myself in words," she purred into his ear. "On the other hand, I'm also not too bad with my hands."

"Funny, me too." He closed his eyes as Joss kissed the pulsating spot on his neck. She was driving him crazy, but he liked it. "So, Taylor won't be home until Monday night?" he asked to clarify how much time they had together.

"Two more nights together." Joss slowly parted the material of Reese's unbuttoned shirt. Never could she have imagined the sculpted body that lay under the custom tailored suit. Her hand lazily stroked his flat abdomen. She brazenly kissed his chest.

"Why, Detective Carter," Reese mused, "I think you're trying to seduce me." His blue eyes darkened as the passion inside of him built up slowly. He didn't think he could ever get enough of making love to her.

"If you're thinking it, I'm not doing a good enough job," she said.

"Don't you think we need to eat?" he asked, though his mind was on something other than food.

"Are you going to cook for me, John?" Her hands fumbled with the belt of his slacks.

"If you ever let me out of bed," he returned. "Though I'm sure we'll have to go shopping."

"Okay." She plucked the ear bud from his ear and took the phone from his hands and laid them on the small glass table. "Feed me, John."

Pulling her to him, he kissed her deeply, his tongue tangled with hers as his hands cupped her buttocks to press against him. His mouth claimed hers in an unadulterated kiss that raised both their body temperatures. Grounding his pelvis, he made her aware of his need. Her soft moans of desire only fuel him to keep going.

Pulling her t-shirt over her head, he gazed upon her naked beauty in the sunlight. "Joss," he breathed. Cupping her nipples, he ran the palm of his hands over until they became bead hard with sexual desire.

Joss brought her arms up to cover herself. "No," Reese said and took her hands in his. "You're beautiful. Let me see you," he ordered in a low seductive tone that made Joss glad she was a woman. "So beautiful," he murmured against her skin and took a nipple in his mouth. With his tongue and teeth, he slowly made love to her until she cried out his name.

"You're killing me," she panted breathlessly and gripped his shoulder to hold on for dear life. Never had a man caused her to orgasm by loving on her breast. Amazing, she thought.

"Never." He moved to the twin and began his adoration while his hand found its way to the edge of her shorts. Snaking inside, he touched the short curls of her desire. Applying just the right amount of ministrations, he smiled to himself when her hips began to undulate to the rhythm he set.

Keeping his thumb in place, he slipped a finger into her core and nearly exploded as her velvet walls grabbed and held him. As he stroked her, he relished as her pleas turned to cries of his name. Out of the corner of his eye, he checked to make sure the neighbours hadn't been alerted. The coast was clear.

Faster he drove her to the edge. Hooking a thumb in the waistband on her shorts, he pulled them down to land in a pile around her feet. With a strangled groan, he knelt down before her and nestled his face at the V of her thighs. He breathed in her musk before his tongue darted out and touched the small pink nub.

"Oh, God!" Joss cried out, her hands curled in Reese's hair.

Reese looked up with a coy smile. "Not quite, sweetheart, but close." Then he went back to loving her. With expert hands, he continued to push her closer and closer to the edge. He wanted to hear her call his name as she went over the precipice. He wanted to drive her as mad as she had made him for three years.

As her body clenched and held, then released, he could tell she was close. "Let it go, Joss," he coaxed. Her nails dug into his shoulders as the orgasm started at her toes and picked up speed to race thru her body. Convulsing against Reese's mouth, her strangled cries of fulfillment were just barely muffled as the throes of ecstasy held, held, then broke to leave her shaking and in a sweat.

Joss tried to catch her breath as she held on to her lover and waited for the world to stop spinning. Never had her heart beat so fast over making love. _He's incredible! I think I'm in love._

As the last shudder jerked her body, Reese kissed the mound of curls and stood up. "How do you feel?"

"I can't feel my legs," she said with a small smile of wonderment and fear. "What did you do to me?"

"Loved you," he replied matter of factly.

"Never…" She closed her eyes and shook her head. Reese crooked a finger under her chin and raised her face to his.

"I got more where that came from," he said and kissed her before picking her up in his arms.

Joss broke away to look around. "Where…? What…?" She tried to comprehend what was happening, but her brain was still in the afterglow of lovemaking.

"I want to finish this inside before the neighbours call the cops on us for disturbing the peace."

She raised her eyebrow. "We didn't already?"

"Not even close."

"You know the penalty for manhandling a law enforcement officer, don't you?" she cautioned with mock authority.

Reese considered the warning. He pursed his lips. "Will it involve those handcuffs you threatened me with once?"

"Manhandle away," she answered with a small chuckle.

Carrying her inside, Reese closed the door to the portico shut with his foot and carried Joss to the bedroom to finish what he promised.


	9. Chapter 9

_A quick update. I figured with the three love scenes between our two heroes, it was time to get back into the story and the principle figure. One of the reasons it took so long to post this was because I couldn't come up with a good name for Quinn's daughter. Then I found my favourite Jimmy Stewart movie "Broken Arrow" and the female lead's name is Sonseeahray (Morning Star). It was perfect._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"Lunch is ready," Abigail Quinn stated and walked into the dining room from the kitchen with a casserole dish in her hands. Setting the dish on the large oval dining table, she turned and looked at her granddaughter. "Child, what are you looking at?"

Ray Quinn kept her concentration on the street below. The car across the street hadn't moved in four hours, and though not suspicious, it didn't bring her any comfort. Maybe it was because she was the daughter of a police commissioner that the trait of looking and watching was already bred inside to help her remain vigilant. Or maybe it was that her paranoia was in overdrive.

"Sonseeahray Quinn, I asked you a question."

Ray took one more peak at the street below, then dropped the curtain and stepped back. Her full name had been used, and that meant she was cornered. No amount of lying and denying was going to get her out of this mess.

"Nothing, Nana," she replied, but her eyes were concentrated on the floor. Shame filled her. Of course she was lying to the woman she considered a mother, but it was for her own safety. The warning had been clear: She couldn't tell anyone.

"You've been glued to that same spot for over an hour and you get jumpy if so much as a car passes by," Abigail observed with a slight tilt of her head, "so don't tell me it's 'nothing', child. Now sit down and eat."

"Nana," Ray protested, "I'm not hungry."

"You've hardly eaten since you arrived here three days ago. And I won't have you wasting away to nothing. Now pull up a chair and eat. Now!" If the tone of Abigail's voice wasn't enough, the hands on her hips warned that defying would not be an option.

Sighing, Ray pulled out a chair and sat down. Grabbing the serving spoon, she placed a small serving of the casserole on her plate. Her stomach rumbled at the delicious aroma, but at the same time she wasn't hungry.

"You need to eat more than that," Abigail admonished. "At least have some garlic bread. You're too thin."

"I'm fine, Nana." Ray picked at the food with her fork with little interest. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Your father," she snorted the reply. "You've heard from him." The younger woman's silence confirmed her worst fears. Abigail laid down her fork sharply. "What did that good for nothing son of mine have to say?"

"Nanny…" The childlike part of Ray wanted to protect her father. He had been a good dad to her and been there for her. She couldn't just betray him.

"I gave him life and I raised him, so I know what kind of man he became. I wish I didn't know the things he'd done, but it's out there for the world too know, so I have to live with it. But that doesn't mean he has to corrupt you with his sins."

Sonseeahray shook her head in denial. "It's not like that…"

Her anger cooled by Ray's distress, Abigail gave a comforting squeeze. "Then tell me what it is. You show up on my porch in the middle of the night looking like the hounds of hell are chasing after you. Then you spend two days glued to the window looking for something or someone. Tell me what is going on. Let me help," she pleaded. Tears broke free to run down her cheeks.

"No one can help me," Ray whispered pitifully. "I need to get out of here."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Out of New York. Out of America," she reasoned. "I really don't know."

"Sonsee, you have to go to the police."

She shook her head vehemently. "I can't."

"That is why they are there. They can help you."

"They won't. They hate me."

"Listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong. You go to them and tell them that you think your life is in danger, and they will have to help you. They took an oath."

"So did Dad."

"He was a bad apple. That doesn't mean all the other police are like him. Go to them, Sonsee," Abigail's tone was desperate. "I won't lose you."

"I…I…" Ray tried to make a valid argument why she had to run instead of asking for help.

"Wait! There is someone you can trust. That female detective Cal dated for a while…oh, what was her name?" Abigail wracked her brain for the answer. "Jess…Jenn…Joss! Joss Carter! You go to her and tell her what is happening; I know she will help."

"But didn't Dad try to kill her?"

"Precious, your life is in danger – even if you don't want to admit it to me – so you have to trust someone. I met her once. She is good people. She'll take care of you."

"Nana, what if…"

"Do this for me. Don't let your father's sins destroy your life." She squeezed Ray's hand so tight it tingled. "Please." Suddenly emotional, Abigail leaned over and pulled Ray into a hug. Sobs shook her body. "Find that detective and get her to help you."

Overwhelmed by the older woman's grief, Ray gently patted her grandmother's back to give her comfort. "I will. I will."  
*****

Bogle pounded on the door of the apartment next to Ray Quinn's. Getting no response, he pounded again. Only louder.

"Hold your horses!" the voice from the other side of the door shouted. The locks turned before the door was opened as far as the chain would allow. A heavy set, older man eyed the young man standing in the hallway. "What the hell do you want?"

"I'm Agent Bogle." He flashed his credentials. "I need to ask a few questions about your neighbour Sonseeahray Quinn."

"Agent?" the older man spat. "Like with the FBI?"

"Yes, sir. If I may ask you a few questions…" Bogle repeated. He held up the picture of Ray. "Have you seen her recently?"

"What's it to you?"

"I have some questions for her about her father."

"So, why aren't you asking her?"

"She isn't home. I need to know if you've seen her."

"Do I fucking look like her keeper?" the man growled.

"No need to get rude, sir, it's just a question."

"I work nights and just fell asleep when you came pounding on my door. Then you have the balls to ask me if I've seen my neighbour. I have every right to be rude."

"Sir, if you've seen her or know where she went and you don't tell me, I can have you arrested for obstructing an investigation," Bogle tried to be cordial but at the same time, he felt himself tense with anger. This was not going the way he had hoped. He shoved his foot between the door and the frame.

"You can have _me_ arrested? Son, you might have a badge and a gun, but that don't mean you got the common sense God gave a bird to get out of a thunderstorm. I suggest you move your foot or else. I've had a crappy night at work and I'm tired."

"I just want to know-"

"The answer is no. Now get the hell out of here before I call the police." The man pushed on the door hard enough to make Bogle pull his foot back before it was crushed. A second later the door slammed loud enough to echo down the hallway.

Bogle looked at the door and considered his options. "I'm dead."

"Can I help you?" a female voice asked from behind.

"Yes. I'm looking for Sonseeahray Quinn."

The woman gave Bogle a cautionary look. "And you are…?"

"Jonathan. She and I were supposed to have a date last night, but she didn't show up. I'm worried that something's happened," Bogle replied with just enough concern in his voice to appear that he really did care about what might have befallen the young woman he was supposed to keep tabs on.

"She's not home?"

Bogle shook his head woefully. "I knock and tried to call her, but she isn't answering."

"Maybe she went to her grandmother's," the woman suggested.

"Grandmother? Do you know where she lives?"

"Somewhere in Albany, I think. I don't remember."

"Thank you."

"I hope things work out for you. She's a nice girl who's gotten a bad break with that dad of hers."

"Yeah. Have good day." Bogle waited for the woman to walk away before he dialed his phone. "Good news," he told the person on the other end. "I found her."


	10. Chapter 10

_I am simply blown away by the response to the last chapter! There are not enough words to say how much I appreciate you all, so I will say: Thank you! Okay, so you've been wondering how the weekend was going to end for Reese and Joss…well, with all that's getting ready to go down, you would think a number would be the culprit. I could never write anything that predictable! _

_And so you know, I cannot stand the name "John" because it's generic and overused and basically a cheap way of naming a character. That is why I continually refer to our hero as "Reese" and only address him by his Christian name by other characters. Hope you understand._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"Smells great," Joss complimented, walking into the kitchen. "What are you cooking?"

"Nothing special," Reese answered with his back toward her. Quickly he stirred the vegetables in the frying pan and moved them from the flame. He wiped his hands on the tea towel that was over his shoulder and turned to face Joss. "It's just a little something I learned to whip together when I was in Russia."

"You were in Russia?" Joss snorted with a slight chuckle. "Why am I not surprised?"

"It wasn't always about catching and taking care of the bad guys," he defended. "Every now and then I took in the sights and culture. I didn't know if I would ever be back again."

"True. You know, every time I think I know you, you go and do something that completely surprises me."

Reese took a couple of steps toward Joss. "Are you saying that I keep you on your toes, Detective?"

"You do," she confirmed.

"That's not a bad thing."

Joss shook her head. "No." The scent of the soap he had used was filling her senses and making her drunk with a desire she didn't know was still left.

"Want to help?"

She blinked. "What?"

"I can use a little help finishing dinner."

"Ummm, sure." She walked over to the island in the middle of the room. "What do you want me to do?"

"Cut the squash, then quarter it," he directed. "Then dice the red peppers. I'm going to finish searing the meat."

Joss picked up the knife and grabbed a piece of squash. Within a few minutes she had a pile of diced yellow sitting in the bowl. "Is this enough?" she asked.

Reese turned around and gave her effort a quick glance. "It is. I'll add this." He took the bowl and emptied it into the frying pan. "Work on the peppers."

"Sure." Joss methodically sliced and diced as she had been instructed.

"No, no," Reese said as he came up behind her. "The pieces need to be smaller." Wrapping his hand around hers, he guided the knife to the precise size he wanted. "See? Like this."

Joss closed her eyes as the shiver of pleasure raced thru her body. "Yeah, yeah," she said, but her attention was on Reese and not the vegetable.

"Just hold the knife at an angle and…chop."

"Does it have to be at an angle?" Joss wondered and tried to will her hand to work. Reese pressed his body closer to hers.

"It does," he murmured into her ear.

"I didn't know it made a difference."

Reese nibbled on Joss' earlobe. "It makes all the difference."

"You know your way around utensils. And other things," she finished breathlessly.

Reese slid his hands up her waist to cup her breasts. He pressed a kiss to her neck. Her perfume was going to drive him crazy. Reaching behind, he turned off the burner so he could concentrate on the task at hand.

"And other things," he confirmed and turned Joss to face him.

"Dinner is going to burn," she observed.

Reese unfastened the buttons on her blouse. "No it won't. And even if it did, I'd make it up to you."

"You spoil me."

"You deserve it." Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her flush against him. "How about we order in?"

Joss nodded. "Sure." Hungrily, Reese kissed her.

Tongues tangling, hands stroking, searching for the flesh hidden under the layer of clothes, they devoured one another as if they were the ones on the menu. Careful of the knife on the island, Reese turned her around and pressed her against the refrigerator. His fingers caressed her intimately.

Not one to not take it all, Joss cupped his firm buttocks and pulled him hard against her. She took pleasure in the way his breathing became shallow. The weekend was definitely turning out better than even she could have imagined.

"I see you're going for desert first," Reese whispered in her ear. "My kind of girl." Hooking his arm under her leg, he brought it up to wrap around his waist before thrusting intimately against her.

The sound of the front door slamming barely registered before a familiar voice called out: "Wow! That smells good! What are you cook-?"

Caught red-handed, Reese and Joss pulled back. An embarrassing silence fell over the room.

"T-Taylor," Joss stuttered the greeting with forced cheerfulness. "I-I wasn't expecting you back home this early." She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. "Is everything okay?"

Taylor looked at his mom and the man standing beside her. Maybe he wasn't a full-fledged adult yet. But it didn't take a rocket scientist – or a biology teacher – to figure out what had been happening in the kitchen before he walked in. With cool eyes, he acknowledged Reese with a nod. Reese did the same.

"Yeah, everything is okay," he replied. "Dad's taking me rollerblading tomorrow, and I need to pick up my gear." His eyes stayed focused on Reese. "I know you. You saved me, right?"

"I did," Reese confirmed. His eyes stayed locked with Taylor's. It was more of a territorial stance than one of defiance. Yes, Taylor was the man of the house, but it was still Joss' home and he loved her. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. _He loved Joss._

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Joss offered and stepped forward. Taylor cleared his throat and glanced down quickly at his mother's open blouse. "Sorry." Joss hurriedly fastened the buttons.

"No, thanks. Dad and I are going out." Taylor pointed toward the staircase. "I'm just going to grab my stuff and pretend I didn't see what I know I saw." A second later his footsteps could be heard on the steps.

"That went over well," Joss groused. "God!"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Joss," Reese comforted.

Joss' mouth dropped open in shock. "I was making out with a man in the kitchen when my son walked in!"

"I'm sure that Taylor has seen you kiss men," Reese reasoned calmly, but inside he was shaking.

"What we were doing was a helluva lot more than kissing, John! And we were about to do it in the kitchen!"

Unable to come up with a logical response that wouldn't get him shot, Reese turned his attention to the food on the stove. A heavy silence fell between the lovers.

"You should go talk to him," Reese suggested.

"Yeah."

Keeping an eye on the stove, Reese tried to tune out the voices that carried down from the upstairs room to the kitchen. A couple minutes later heavy footsteps pounded down to the foyer.

"Taylor…" Joss begged. "Please don't walk away."

"Mom, I really have to go," Taylor shrugged his mother off. "Dad's waiting."

"We'll talk when you get back, okay?" she offered up an olive branch.

"Yeah. Whatever." Taylor dismissed her by slamming the front door hard enough to shake the foyer wall.

Rejected and dejected, Joss walked slowly back into the kitchen. "He hates me."

Moving the frying pan from one burner to another, Reese covered the food and walked to where Joss stood. "I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

"He's never stormed out of the house before," Joss whispered completely dumbfounded by the whole scene that had transpired.

"He's a teenager, Joss," Reese pointed out logically. "Once he's had time to think about it, he'll come around. I promise."

"What if he doesn't?" she asked. Her heart broke at the thought of her son seeing her in a different light.

"We'll worry about that when it happens," Reese comforted. He went to hold her. Instead, Joss pushed him away. "What's wrong?"

"This. Us." Joss shook her head. She held up her hands. "I can't."

"I just want to hold you, Joss," Reese pointed out matter of factly.

"I just…I need some time alone. I need to be by myself."

"If it's about Taylor, I'll speak to him."

Head bowed, Joss wrapped her arms around her waist. "No. Just go, John. Please. I need to think about us and…everything."

Reese reached out to touch her shoulder, but stopped. He sighed. Maybe she was right. They needed some time apart to think about what happened between them.

"Okay," he conceded in defeat. Turning on his heel, he walked out of the kitchen to the bedroom to retrieve his personal belongings. Two minutes later he stood in the foyer and waited…for what, he couldn't put his finger on it, but he couldn't just leave without saying good-bye.

Hand on the knob, his heartbeat matched the ticking of the Grandfather clock in the hallway. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the lonely woman standing in the middle of the kitchen. _Say something, Joss, _he silently pleaded.

Realizing the words were not going to be said, Reese opened the door and let himself out. Only after he was sitting in the car and starting the engine did it dawn on him that he had wanted her to tell him to wait.

Except she hadn't.

Putting the engine in drive, he pulled into the street and drove home.


	11. Chapter 11

_I feel that I need to clear something up from the last chapter: Joss' reaction to Taylor walking in on her and Reese, and her ultimate dismissal of Reese afterward. I have watched nearly every episode of Season 1 at least a dozen times and half that many times for Season 2, and the one thing that jumps out at me is Joss' inability to process a sudden information dump. She did this in "Baby Blue", "Firewall", Dead Reckoning", "In Extremis" and "God Mode". When it comes to cases, she's cool, sharp, and by the book. But when life throws her for a loop (Fusco is a mole/bad cop &amp; Reese's betrayal), her ability to process stops and she needs to regroup and pull herself together. So, yes, her reaction is very much in character, IMHO._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Lying in his spot by the gate, Bear watched the hallway for any sign of his master's arrival. Then he sighed. Though he had no concept of time, he knew that more than a couple of days had passed. He sighed again. He was lonely for the familiar voice of his friend and master.

Suddenly his nose twitched and his ears perked. Standing up, he pawed happily at the gate and whined. Looking behind, he tried to communicate with Harold to let him out. As the footstep got closer, Bear happily wagged his tail and barked loudly.

"Hey, Bear," Reese greeted with less enthusiasm than usual. Undoing the latch, he stepped inside and patted the canine on the head. "Were you a good boy?"

Bear barked his response and jumped in the air. His mind somewhere else, Reese continued his journey to the main room.

"Good morning, Mr. Reese," Finch greeted from his almost permanent position in front of the computer. He raised his eyes long enough to notice that something was out of sorts.

Reese hung his jacket on the coat tree. "Morning, Harold," he returned without his usual passion.

"I take it your weekend was…productive?" Finch paused in his keystrokes for a response.

"If you're asking: Was the restaurant acceptable? Yes it was. Thank you," he added as an afterthought.

"And your time with Detective Carter…?" Finch didn't mean to pry, but if the look on his friend's face was an indicator, the rendezvous had not ended well. Although he had had such high hopes of his mutual friends finding a connection and coming together…finally.

Reese looked over at the computer screen with feigned interest. "Do we have another number?" Distracted, he turned and walked to the large bay window.

Finch tried to hide his disappointment, so he turned back to the task on hand. "As a matter of fact, we do." Reaching over to the printer, he removed the picture. "And I am sure you aren't going to like it."

Staring down below, Reese watch with little feeling at the busy city bustling with life. Lost in thought, he wondered what Joss was doing at the moment. And not for the first time he wondered if it would be too forward of him to call.

"Mr. Reese?" Finch called out and awkwardly stepped across the floor to tape the picture on the glass board.

Snapped out of his reverie, Reese looked at his mentor. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

"I'm glad that you decided to come back from wherever you were," Finch stated succinctly. "I was saying that we do have another number."

Reese moved from the window to the board. Glancing at the picture, he couldn't help but feel as though he knew the woman who had become their latest 'person of interest'. "She looks familiar," he remarked. "Do we know her?" he asked softly almost afraid of the answer.

"We should, Mr. Reese," Finch replied. "Her son tried to murder you and Joss."

Reese shook his head. "She's related to Alonzo Quinn?" he asked dumbfounded by the revelation.

"You could say that," Finch quipped. "Her name is Abigail Quinn. His mother."

Unable to tear his eyes from the woman, Reese felt his heart drop to his feet. He wasn't sure how her well being or relation to a scumbag was relevant to her number coming up, but whatever brought her to Harold's attention could not end well for anyone involved. Sick to his stomach, he took a step back.

"No." One definitive word of rejection.

"I understand, John," Finch gently empathized. "But her life is surely in danger for reasons we don't understand. We must help her."

"I can't, Harold." Reese flexed his fingers into tight fists and fought the urge to rip the picture into tiny pieces. "I can't."

Sensing Reese's distress, Bear walked over and laid his head against his master's thigh and whined pitifully. His eyes jumped from Reese to Finch as if seeking answers to the tension he perceived between the two men he was most loyal to.

"I am sure that you have your reasons for turning down the assignment, John, but I should remind you that she had no involvement in the course of action her son took."

"It's not that, Harold," Reese argued with a shake of his head. "I don't want to open old wounds." _Not that old_, his conscience reminded him.

Finch nodded. "I understand. But we have a moral obligation to set aside our bias and save those whose life may be in danger. Her number would not have come up if her life was in danger." A thinly veiled lie, and they both knew it. More than once the Machine had sent a number of a potential victim who had in the end turned out to be the perpatrator.

"And if I turn it down?" The question was delivered in a hollowed tone that almost matched Reese's equally hollow gaze.

"You turn it down. I do accept that you don't want to do the job, but don't let your anger and prejudice toward one person cloud your common sense and allow another's life to be placed in potential jeopardy," Finch lectured sternly enough to make Bear's ears perk at attention.

Thoroughly chastised, Reese let out his breath slowly. "Do we know why her number came up?" His gut was telling him to walk away, but deep down inside the oath he had taken as a young recruit in the Army echoed in his head: _All enemies – foreign and domestic. _Alonzo Quinn was the enemy.

"The Machine wasn't clear, but whatever the reason, I'm sure that it's a repercussion of Alonzo Quinn's doing."

"Does Shaw know about this?"

"No. I wanted to tell you first."

"What should I do when I get to her?" Reese hedged carefully without fully committing himself to the task.

"The safest course of action would be to get her to a safe-house. After that, we would need to involve Fusco and Carter," Finch reasoned logically.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Finch. We don't know where Quinn is, or if any HR representatives are involved. This could be a way for him or them to get myself or Carter out in the open and finish what Simmons…" He left the rest unsaid. Unconsciously he rubbed his shoulder where the scar was still fresh; the small reminder of all that he had almost lost – and could still lose.

"I'm sure that whatever they have in mind, it may be to drag Quinn out of hiding." It gnawed at Finch that he was still unable to locate where the government had relocated their former nemesis. And not for the first time did he entertain the thought of involving Root's assistance.

"Where does she live?"

"Outside of Albany." Reese raised his eyebrows. "That is why her number being sent to us requires the upmost importance. We can't waste a single minute getting to her."

"Can I take Shaw?" Reese walked over to the closet and sifted through his weapons. It could be a trap or another attempt at an ambush, he thought bitterly. But this time he wasn't going to be caught unprepared. Grabbing one of the semi-automatic pistols, he checked it over and cocked it so a bullet was readied in the chamber.

"I was just going to suggest that you take back-up." Finch sat down at the computer and typed a text to Shaw. Less than a minute later, her reply was received. "She said you would know where to pick her up. She also wants you to bring extra ammunition."

"One step ahead of her." Reese methodically and smartly began loading items into the canvas bag. "Tell her that I will be there in ten minutes." He pulled the zipper closed then threw the strap over his shoulder.

"One more thing, Harold, do not tell Carter about this. The less she knows, the better."

"John…"

"I'll tell her when I return." Turning on his heel, he walked down the hallway. "Send me the coordinates," he called back.

"Godspeed, Mr. Reese," Finch whispered under his breath then busily got to the task on hand.


	12. Chapter 12

_I really should be updating my Criminal Minds story, but I had to get this Joss/Taylor interaction off my chest first. Word of warning: You may get the urge to slap Taylor - and that is completely understandable - but remember what it was like at 16/17 when you knew more than even your parents and weren't afraid to say so. Plus, his emotions are going to be all twisted with his mother cheating death and having a long lost father come back. He's not only overwhelmed, he's at his wits end._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Joss sat at the kitchen table and sipped the coffee which had grown cold. With her fingertips, she rubbed her forehead and tried to keep herself awake. It had been two long nights since Taylor had caught her and John in an awkward embrace, and she was still no closer to resolving their conflict.

So she was going to catch her son before he left for school and have what she hoped would be a productive discussion. Sighing, she sipped the coffee again and looked at her watch. Her eyes stayed focused on the stairs. Where was he?

The answer came in the form of loud, pounding of footsteps on the stairs. Bracing herself against a possible cold shoulder, Joss called out, "Taylor? Could you come in here, please?"

Turning around, the teen grudgingly walked into the spacious kitchen. With just a hint of defiance, he leveled a look at his mother. "What?" his tone bordered between whining and impatient.

"I think we need to talk."

Taylor hiked his backpack higher on his shoulder. "I can't. I'm running late for school."

"You have a few minutes," Joss contradicted. "Sit down. Please." She gestured toward the chair opposite of hers.

Taylor shifted his weight and shrugged his shoulders. "Mom, really, I have to go."

"I said please."

Sighing heavily, Taylor reluctantly walked over to the table and sat down. Carefully he placed his backpack on the floor near his feet. Then he crossed his arms over his chest. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"The other night."

Taylor rolled his eyes. "What about it?"

"I want to apologize."

Taylor raised his shoulder then dropped it. "Okay." He started to rise from the chair.

"I know that it must have been awkward walking in and seeing what you saw," Joss continued.

He gave a sarcastic snort. "You mean watching my mom having sex in the kitchen with some strange guy? Yeah, I guess that would fall under awkward."

"We weren't having sex," Joss protested. Her hands were shaking so badly that the coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug. But she didn't notice. All she cared about was trying to make him understand and not hate her.

"Okay. Sure," he replied with blatant indifference. "Sliding into second base doesn't have the same feel, but I'll play along."

"It wasn't…" Joss took a deep breath. When had she decided that trying to explain the kitchen scene was going to be a good idea? _God help me,_ she prayed.

"So, it wasn't sex, although you two were kissing and your hands were on his ass…" he described the scene in graphic detail.

"Taylor!"

Taylor threw up his hands. "Okay, Mom. You had your hands on his _butt_. Is that better?" he returned in a sarcastic tone. "I took biology and I'm pretty sure that what you two were doing wasn't all that innocent."

"I can explain." Jess tried to take a deep breath to calm her nerves. No matter how she spun this, she was guilty of having sexual needs and the misfortune of displaying them in public where her son could catch her. Looking into her son's brown eyes, her heart sank. There was no way she could logically talk her way out of this.

"What's his name?" Taylor asked.

"Who?" Joss asked stupidly.

"The man you were playing tonsil hockey with," Taylor replied with an incredulous look.

"John."

"Of course it is. Is he the guy you gave Cal Beecher up for?" he asked pulling no punches.

"No." At the last moment, Joss realized she answered too quickly.

"Sure."

Joss took a sip of her coffee and blanched at the bitterly cold taste. Setting aside the mug, she looked down and saw the small puddle from earlier. Standing up, she reached for the paper towels and ripped a sheet off and wiped the spill.

"What does that mean?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"At least I know why you let me spend the weekend with Dad."

"No. It's not what you think." Good God, when had her son become the interrogator? "I thought the two of you would like to get to know one another." Why did that excuse suddenly sound weak as she said it aloud?

"He's out of my life for nearly thirteen years and suddenly you think it's time for us to 'get to know one another'? Why didn't you just come out and say that you wanted to spend the weekend with your lover and didn't want me in your way?"

Joss held up her hands. "Now stop right there, Taylor." She took a step forward. Any guilt she felt was immediately replaced by anger. It was one thing to caught by her son in a compromising position, but it was quite another to be called a liar by the same son.

"I'll bet you're going to use this John guy to keep from giving Dad a second chance, right?" he challenged with bravado or jealousy. It was difficult to tell.

"John has nothing to do with me and your dad."

"Of course he does. Dad still loves you," Taylor stated. "And I think that you owe him a second chance to be in our lives."

Joss shook her head and gave a short laugh. "I am not going to discuss this with you. Not now."

Taylor stood up. "Why not? You wanted to tell me why you _weren't _having sex with some guy named John in the middle of _my_ kitchen while I was conveniently spending quality time with my long lost father. At least you can tell me why you won't give him a second chance."

"First of all, young man, this is not _your _kitchen. Secondly, I gave your father a second chance," she returned. Her tone turned bitter as the memory of her and Paul's last encounter flashed thru her mind. "And a dozen more chances after that. I moved on."

"He still loves you."

"That's enough, Taylor."

"He wants to make things work," Taylor continued as though he hadn't heard the warning in her voice.

"I won't discuss this. Not here. Not with you." Joss could feel her anger rising. The whole situation had spun out of control. Badly. Now mother and son had taken opposite corners and neither was willing to give in or concede. It was all or nothing and there would be no victors when the smoke cleared.

"Yeah, that's your cop-out. When you don't have an answer, you use the 'I won't discuss this' line. What do you think I am? Seven?"

"When you act like it. If you've forgotten, young man, I am still the parent, and I don't have to answer to you," Joss returned in her best Warrant Officer tone and squared her shoulders for the onslaught of teenage hostility.

"Another cop-out. Why don't you just come out and say that you wanted to get your freak on with the guy who saved me? Wait. That's it. You were paying him back for saving me. Wow, Mom, you came a little late to the game since that was over two years ago. Is that why you needed the whole weekend?"

"That's enough. You will not speak to me like this in my house."

Taylor picked up his backpack and threw it over his shoulder. "Then I won't stay here."

Fear pierced Joss's heart where a second earlier anger raged. "What do you mean?"

"I can stay with Dad."

"What if I say no?" Joss threw back with her hands on her hips.

"You can't stop me since I'm almost seventeen. Besides, I'm willing to at least give him a second chance even if you won't."

Joss walked toward him. "Don't do this, Taylor." He backed away from her touch. "We can talk about this."

"I don't want to talk. I need to leave for school." He turned on his heel and walked toward the front door. Yanking the heavy oak open, he turned to face Joss. "I won't be back tonight."

"Taylor, please don't run off because you're angry at me," Joss pleaded. Her voice cracked with emotions she was trying to hold back.

"Really, Mom, I would like to stay and continue this convo, but I have to get to school." He stepped over the threshold. His phone buzzed to alert him to a new text.

"Taylor…" Joss didn't know what she could say to make things better, but she had to make him stay.

"Out of curiosity, Mom. You always preach to me about 'safe sex'. Did you bother to take your own advice?" He closed the door hard behind him.

Letting out a heavy breath that bordered on a sob, Joss closed her eyes and counted to ten. She should call in and let Fusco take up the slack, she debated. She was still not one hundred percent, so no one would blame her, but…

She dropped her shoulders in defeat. It wouldn't be fair to Fusco or the rest of the department because her personal life was spinning out of control. No, that was not in her moral code. She would go to work and do what she could to stop the bad guys before it was too late.

Casting a glance at her coffee cup and the haphazardly placed chairs at the table, she gathered her keys and secured her service weapon. Her day was already shot to hell, how could it possibly get worse?


	13. Chapter 13

_Things are starting to heat up - and I don't mean between Carter and Reese!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Abigail rinsed the small toast plate and placed it in the drainer. It wasn't much to prepare a breakfast for one, but she had to do something to take her mind off of Sonseeahray and the danger she was in. Was she safe? Had she found the detective in time? What if she hadn't?

She closed her eyes and fought back the fear rapidly filling her heart. No, she told herself, she wasn't going to go down that road of negativity. God was going to watch over her only grandchild and lead her to safety. In that, she had faith.

Too bad she couldn't have it in her son. She didn't want to bad mouth the product of her loins, but she couldn't give him the benefit of the doubt that whatever trouble he had caused in New York had followed him to wherever the Feds had decided to hide him. Still, she had raised him, so a certain amount of the blame rested on her shoulders. But that was no excuse for putting his daughter in harm's way.

Taking her cup of coffee to the small kitchen table, Abigail sat down and tried to concentrate on the Metro section of the paper. A knock on the back door jolted her slightly but it also put her on alert. Who would be knocking on her door at eight in the morning?

Parting the curtain over the window of the door, she peaked out and saw a well dressed man.

"Abigail Quinn?" he asked and held up his credentials for her to see.

Her gut told her something was wrong, but he seemed genuine, so Abigail opened the door. "How may I help you?" Her eyes scanned the credentials for anything amiss. Maybe she wasn't a police officer, but she had been around enough to know a fake ID from the real thing.

"I'm looking for Sonsahrah Quinn for questioning," the man answered.

"It's Son-see-ah-ray," Abigail corrected his pronunciation. "And why do you need to question her?"

The man looked around to make sure the coast was clear. "May I come in?"

"I… Sure." Abigail stepped aside to let him in. "Why do you need to question my granddaughter?" she repeated.

"She was involved in a fatal hit and run accident and fled the scene. We need to take her in for questioning."

"She didn't tell me that, Agent Vogel. Would you like some coffee?" she offered politely.

"No, thank you. And it's Bogle with a B," he corrected as his eyes scanned the room for anything out of place or possible hiding places. "So, you've had contact with her?"

Mouth suddenly dry, Abigail tried to remain calm. "How did you know she might be here?" She calculated the distance from where she stood to the phone. Too far. Maybe she could make it to the door.

Bogle smiled. "We stopped by her apartment and her friend told us she came up here for a few days. Is she here? I need to speak to her."

"She isn't here. Could you please leave?" Abigail tensed up from a fear she couldn't explain. Maybe it was the way the light shone on him, but the handsome man who had entered her kitchen had been transformed into something resembling a monster.

"Where is she?" Bogle's voice was low.

"She's not here." The fight or flight response was kicking in, but she was trapped. There was nowhere to go, and the man knew it. His smile became sinister and his eyes cold as he looked her over.

"But you know where she is." Bogle took a step. He watched her face. She was scared. Good, he wanted her frightened. The more frightened, the more willing she would be to reveal the whereabouts of her granddaughter before he killed both of them. "Where is she?"

"She doesn't know anything," Abigail's voice shook with fear.

"Yes, she does. And you are going to tell me what she knows. And you are going to tell me where that bastard son of your is." Bogle pulled out his service weapon. His eyes narrowed.

Abigail stepped back. She needed to get to the door. Frantically her hand searched for the door knob that should be behind her, but came up empty. "I don't know where he is," she whispered. _God,_ she prayed, _help me. Help me. _"I swear. Please don't hurt me," she begged.

"Maybe I can refresh your memory." Bogle loomed over her and raised his hand. Abigail recoiled and felt her back hit the door. She saw the gun come at her from out of the corner of her eye and braced herself for the blow she knew was going to hurt.

And it did.  
****

Standing at the food truck, Joss waited in line for her turn to order. She didn't mean to tap her foot impatiently, but she couldn't help it. Finally her turn arrived. Stepping up to the window, she placed her order.

"One large coffee with creamer." Reaching into her pocket for the change, she was stopped by a familiar voice, "Add another coffee with two sugars and two creamers." Joss turned around to see Fusco.

"Fusco," she glared at her partner as he slapped a five dollar bill into the vendor's hand. "And I'll take two of those cheese danishes, too," he added quickly. He waited for his change and pastries. Joss grabbed the coffees.

"Let's stand and talk," he said with a shrug and a nod toward the wall of the 8th Precinct. Together the pair went to the wall close enough to the front door, but far enough away to give them privacy.

"I guess I should say thank you and good morning," Joss said and handed the insulated cup to Fusco.

"Good morning to you, too." He greeted over the rim of his coffee cup. "You look like hell."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Joss asked. "Because it's not working."

"Depends. How was your date with the Caped Crusader?" Fusco leaned against the wall.

Joss shrugged. "It was fine." She tried a sip. Too hot. Grimacing as it burned her tongue, she used the heat from the cup to keep her fingertips warm from the wind chill of the unexpected cold snap that had gripped the city.

"It must have been something other than fine, because you still look like hell."

She looked sharply at her partner. "Thanks. I don't think buying me a morning coffee entitles you to an opinion about my appearance."

"No. It's an observance." Fusco leaned in and lowered his voice. "Come on, Carter, be honest with me. What happened? Did he jilt you for somebody who needed a last minute rescue? Because if he did, I'll kick his ass for you."

"Heh. Thanks for the offer, but it was nothing like that," she shook her head and took a long drink of the coffee. She needed to focus on something other than what had transpired at the kitchen table.

Fusco looked closer at his partner. Suddenly the truth dawned on him. "He didn't… You didn't…"

"Will you lower your voice?" Joss looked around to make sure nobody heard the outburst. "It's not what you think," she deflected.

Fusco let out a short laugh. "I would say it is, Carter. But that doesn't explain why you look like hell."

"Taylor walked in."

Both eyebrows shot up in surprise. "On you?"

"Yeah," she admitted reluctantly. A horn honked in the distance and the crowd of people rushed on by as though they weren't there.

"Well, that explains it. So, what happened?"

"What usually happens when your kid walks in on you," she said with a sarcastic snort. "Now he's staying with his dad."

Fusco looked at her inquisitively. "And Wonder Boy?"

Joss lifted a shoulder then let it drop. "I don't know. We haven't spoken since Sunday night."

"It's Tuesday, Carter. You need to call him."

Joss tried to focus on the traffic, the cup - anything but the uncomfortable feeling of guilt Fusco was creating in her. "I can't."

"Why?"

Joss gave her partner a determined look that warned him that maybe it might be a good idea to drop the subject. "Because."

"You think you're the first parent to be caught doing the horizontal mambo by their kid, and then had a falling out? Welcome to the club, Joss. So, what are you going to do?"

Joss weighed her options - which weren't many - and shook her head in defeat. "I don't know."

"You have the right to a life," he empathized. "I'm sure Taylor understands that."

"I'm not used to this - working, single-parent, dating…"

"If anyone can do it, I'm sure you can," Fusco complimented. "It's all about balancing."

"Heh. There was nothing in the 'What To Expect' books about this," Joss groused.

Fusco grinned broadly. "There never is. I would call both of them before it's too late, though."

Before Joss could reply, something caught her eye. Ever so slightly she turned her head and watched the lone figure pressed up against the far right side wall of the precinct. Dressed down and in a hoodie, Joss made a slight gesture to Fusco to follow her lead.

Weapon ready, the pair cautiously approached the person with just a slight bit of apprehension. There was no telling who they might be dealing with…a speed freak, a mental patient, or worse - a suicidal person with nothing to lose.

"You look lost," Joss greeted, but her detective instincts were on high alert. "Can I help you?"

Wide-eyed and frightened, Ray looked around the area and shook her head. "I don't know."

Her hand hovered near her weapon. Joss was not getting a good vibe, and she stepped back just in case all hell suddenly broke loose. "My name is Carter," she tried to break the ice. "What's yours?"

"Joss Carter?"

Joss smiled and nodded. "Yes." She looked closer at the young woman. There was something familiar she couldn't put her finger on. "Do I know you?"

"My grandmother told me I needed to find you," Ray rushed on in a hurried low tone. "She said you can help me."

Joss and Fusco exchanged a look. There was something hinky going on, but, what? "I'll try to help you, sweetie. Tell me your name."

"Ray Quinn."

Joss's blood suddenly ran cold as she felt someone walk over her grave. "Did you say your name is Quinn?"

Ray looked fearfully at the detectives, then down the street, and back to the detectives. "Yes," she nodded and dropped her voice, "And I need your help. Someone is going to kill me."


	14. Chapter 14

_Pneumonia is sweeping thru my workspace and it required me to stay awake for nearly 36 hours. But I wanted to complete this chapter and post it before I crashed and burned-so I can get ready for another shift! This chapter is longer than I intended, but I couldn't break it up. Also, I had to find something that would irritate Shaw enough to remain silent for the remainder of the trip. See if you can figure out the six degrees of separation. _

_Special thanks to rjwritergirl for the great line for Joss. Love you!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"What do you think they are going to do with her?" Fusco asked, his voice low enough only for Carter to hear.

She looked toward the office where Ray Quinn was being questioned. She didn't want to speculate what could be going down behind the closed door, but whatever it was, she didn't want to be a part of it. It was taking everything she had in reserve to move past that horrible November night. She wasn't going to get involved.

"I don't know." Carter turned back toward her desk and paperwork. "It's not my case."

"She asked for you."

Carter tried to focus on the memo to no avail. "I don't care."

"What if-?"

"What if, nothing," she deflected with the wave of her hand. "Not my circus. Not my concern."

"Detective Carter. My office. Now." The precinct captain gestured with his finger that she was to follow him. Shooting her partner a glare, Carter reluctantly stood up and followed his lead. Stepping into the office, she barely glanced at the ashen faced young woman sitting in the chair by the desk.

"Yes, Captain," she stated with just enough snark in her tone to warn that she was not going to bend to their wishes.

"Have a seat," he offered the chair opposite of Ray.

"No, thank you. I'd rather stand."

"It wasn't a request, Detective. Take a seat." He waited for Carter to settle in before continuing, "We have a situation. As you may be aware, this is Ray Quinn - the daughter of Alonzo Quinn."

"I'm familiar with the family," Carter didn't elaborate. A tiny familiar ache filled her heart as the memory of Cal's bullet-ridden body flashed before her eyes.

"Apparently, Ms. Quinn's life is in danger."

"How is this my problem?" Carter asked bluntly. She no longer cared whose feelings she hurt. That corner had been turned a long time ago.

"You are the only person in the department I can trust to guard her," the captain replied evenly.

"No." Carter looked at Ray. "No offense, but, no. I respectfully decline."

"You don't have a choice. I'm assigning you to guard her until the WITSEC agents can get their paperwork organized and take her to a safe location."

"Captain…" Carter hissed and tried to remember that he was still her superior and he deserved her respect.

"Detective Carter?" Ray piped up. Carter turned to look at her. "I know what my dad did to you and the department, and I'm sorry. Really, I am. I don't want to be here, and I know you don't want me here, either, but my grandmother told me you could help."

"Your grandmother is Abigail?" Carter asked.

Ray nodded her head. "Yes."

"Does she know what kind of trouble you're in?"

"No." Ray shook her head vehemently. "I didn't tell her. I don't want her to get hurt."

"You said someone wants to kill you. How do you know this? Did he call you?" Carter couldn't say 'father'; she couldn't assign that title to someone as evil as Alonzo Quinn. And if he was responsible for the hell she was going thru right now…. God help her if she ever got her hands on him.

"No. I found this letter under my door." Ray handed the envelope over and waited while it was read and passed around. "I didn't know what to do, so I went to my grandmother. She told me you could help."

Carter weighed the facts before answering. "Captain, may I speak to you privately?" Stepping out into the hallway, Carter kept one eye on Ray and the other on the traffic passing by. Sure, she didn't want to play babysitter to the daughter of her attempted murderer, but she wasn't going to leave the poor woman out by herself to fight off the wolves.

"What is the problem, Detective?"

"I can't do this, Captain."

"May I inquire as to why you feel this way?"

"Because it's a conflict of interest."

"She deserves protection."

"Yes," Carter agreed. "But not my protection. I can't do this." She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice, but it was useless. Wounds she thought were healed began to ache. She couldn't do this and remain sane.

"You don't have a choice," the captain replied with just a hint of sympathy. "She came to you for protection because she can trust you. To assign her to anyone else could put her life in jeopardy."

"We could hand her over to the marshal's office and let them deal with it," Carter argued, but she could see the look in the captain's eyes and knew that what ever points she could make would be fruitless.

"It will take at least a day for them to get the paperwork together and another to get her a safe house. If the letter was any indicator to who is after her, we don't have that luxury."

"What do you suggest that I do? Keep her at a hotel under lock and key?"

"That would be your call. I cannot be involved any further than this."

Carter tried not to let her mouth drop in disbelief. "Are you saying that if I take her, I am on my own?"

"Only until the marshals service can meet up with you. I know a place; it's a half day's drive from here, but it's safe and secure. You'll stay there until I call you with the details."

Carter felt her stomach lurched and the bile rise. She wanted to say no and tell the captain to shove his request. But she looked at the scared young woman huddled in the chair and felt the mom part rear up. If Taylor was in Ray's shoes, what would she want done?

"Okay," she conceded in defeat. "I'll do it. But on my terms."

"That would depend on what they are."

"First, I don't want anyone knowing where we are heading - and that includes you. Second, I will contact you when we get to the location."

"And third? I am assuming there is a third."

"I want to know Alonzo Quinn's location."

"I can't do that, Carter," the captain shook his head.

"I'm watching his daughter and protecting her with my life - the same life he tried to extinguish - so I deserve that much."

"I'll see what I can do," he finally relented. "Is that all?"

"I want to take my partner with me."

"Detective Fusco?"

"He's the only person here at the 8th who has had my back. He is the only person I trust."

The captain grimaced. "I don't know. He's working on another case."

"You said yourself that this should only take a day or so. I'm sure you'll find someone to cover for him in that time." Carter refused to budge. "It's a take it or leave it, Captain."

Reconsidering his retort, the captain relented with a long sigh. "Okay."

"We'll also need an unmarked car. Preferably an SUV."

"I'll make the arrangements with Motor Pool. Anything else?"

"No. I want to be able to leave within the hour."

"As you wish, Detective." He turned on his heel and went back into his office. Leaning against the wall, Carter closed her eyes and said a prayer. What had she gotten herself into?  
*****

"You look like hell," Shaw observed casually from the passenger seat of the luxury sedan.

"Are you trying to make small talk?" Reese asked and kept his eyes on the road. He wasn't in the mood for talking, and now that Shaw was trying to drag him in, he desired it even less.

"Yes."

"You're not very good at it."

"What can I say? My people skills suck. That doesn't change the obvious."

"Which is…?"

"You look like hell. What happened? Did Joss's kid walk in on you two?" Shaw probed without subtlety.

Except for the twitch in his cheek, Reese remained stoic and kept his eyes on the road. And Shaw's eagle eye didn't miss it.

"He did," she pointed out. "What happened?"

"I don't want to discuss it."

"Why?"

"Because it's not a topic worthy of discussing."

"But you obviously care for her. Have you spoken to her?"

His knuckles turned whiter as he tried to maintain his composure.

"That is a no," Shaw answered. "Has she called you?"

More silence.

"That, too, would be a no."

"Are you having fun?" Reese quipped thru clenched teeth.

"Twenty Questions is usually more fun when the person being interrogated answers. But in my defense, you are answering."

"There is a radio."

"I'm not much of a fan of music."

"Which would be my bad luck," Reese muttered under his breath.

"Do you have any other ideas for keeping us entertained while on the road?" she asked and looked out the window.

"One."

"Which is…?"

"Whoever can keep quiet the longest gets to drive back."

"That's not fun."

"Sorry. You lose." Before Shaw could reply, Reese reached over and turned on the radio. 50 Cent's "Smoke" came over the speakers. Shaw threw him an undisguised look of contempt. "New game. Whoever can stay quiet the longest gets to choose the station on the way back."

Shaw flashed him a sneer disguised as a smile, but she remained silent as the miles clicked by.

Glancing down at the GPS, Reese slowed the car down to maneuver around a tight curve that came out at the start of a residential area. Guiding the car with expert hands, he followed until the voice told him he had arrived at his destination.

"We're here," he announced and pulled the car next to the curb. His trained eye took in the car in the drive way. Touching his earwig, he began speaking. "Finch, can you check on a license plate for me? One-seven-zero-Bravo-Foxtrot-Quebec-niner."

"Give me a second, Mr. Reese."

"Do you hear that?" Shaw asked. Her head turned toward the house. She was positive that the crash had come from inside.

"Finch, hold on." Grabbing his weapon, Reese motioned for Shaw to get out. Side by side, weapons ready, they approached the house cautiously. Up the three steps to the porch, Reese tried the screen door and found it unlocked. "You take the back door," he whispered.

Shaw's training kicked in as she followed the order. A second later she was around the corner of the house. Another crash came from inside.

Turning the knob slowly, Reese leveled his weapon as he took aim and opened the door. Stepping inside, he looked to his left and then to his right. A sharp noise caught his ear. Turning his head, he was caught off guard by a blow to his head that caused his weapon to fly to the ground and stars to dance behind his eyelids. He barely had time to register the pain as he went into fight mode against his attacker.

Hand to hand combat ensued as Reese took on a formidable opponent that seemed to anticipate his every move. Landing a blow of his own, Reese took the upper hand and threw the man against the wall. Familiar eyes met his. Where had he seen this man before, he wondered, then doubled over as a fist landed straight into his solar plexus.

Winded and momentarily paralyzed, he fell to the ground, giving his attacker a chance to flee. He barely registered the sound of tires screeching on the asphalt steet outside.

"John! In here!" Shaw called out from the kitchen.

Pulling himself to his knees, Reese tried to catch his breath and stop the black dots from dancing around his head. Counting to five, he stood on his feet and hurried to the back room to join his partner who was knelt down beside Abigail Quinn's prone figure.

"Did you get him?" Shaw asked.

"He got away," Reese replied without elaboration. "How is she?" He looked at the large gash over the woman's eye. Whoever had attacked her had shown no mercy for her age or gender.

"She's breathing." Pulling out her phone, Shaw dialed 911. "I need an ambulance at 9723 Donovan Avenue," she commanded. "A woman has been attacked in her home." Clicking the phone off, she tried to apply pressure to Abigail's wound.

Reese touched his earwig to turn it on. "Finch, we were too late."

"What do you mean, Mr. Reese?"

"Whoever we were supposed to protect Abigail Quinn from beat us here." He surveyed the damage in the kitchen for anything that might help shed light on who they surprised.

"How is she?"

"It's not good, Harold. They beat her up pretty bad. Shaw called an ambulance."

"You need to get out of there," Finch ordered.

"Did you find the owner of the car?" Reese asked. His fingers sorted through the papers lying on the floor. Only bills and advertisements. Nothing that could help identify who committed the heinous crime they had walked in on.

"It was reported stolen from an impound yard two days ago."

A siren wailed in the distance. "We have to go." Reese disconnected the call. He glanced at Abigail and felt a small tug on his heart. He drew the line at people who deliberately hurt women and children.

"Help her," Abigail gasped and tried to open her eyes. Her voice was so weak it was barely audible.

"Help, who?" Shaw asked.

"Sonsee…he wants…" Abigail tried to form her words intelligently, but her brain was foggy and her tongue was thick.

Shaw's eyes met Reese's. "He wants to, what?" she probed for more information.

"Kill…her…don't let him." Abigail grabbed Shaw's hand. "Don't…don't…" Her words trailed off. The siren was getting closer. They had to go.

"Shaw!" Reese ordered.

Standing up, Shaw followed closely behind until they reached the car. Reese started the engine and pulled away from the curb just as the ambulance came around the corner at full speed.

Reese looked in his rearview mirror at the scene unfolding behind him. He tried not to think too much about what had happened, but they had been too late to save their number. And somewhere out there was an attacker waiting to strike again.

He looked at Shaw. Neither had to guess what the other was thinking. What ever was going down had just been begun, and they were now involved. All the way.


	15. Chapter 15

_I am so very sorry to leave my readers hanging for the past month waiting for an update. A co-worker resigned and we can't seem to find anyone to replace her. So, on top of that and illness (at work, not me!) and my daughter getting a job that coincides with my sleep time…I have been burning the candle at both ends. Add in, too, that my brain is nothing but a bowl of blonde pudding. I am surprised I got this much out! Hopefully I will find a moment or two and crank out another chapter soon!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"Do you have everything you need?" Joss asked the young lady she had been assigned to guard. She wasn't sure why she couldn't meet her charge's eyes, but it was the least of her worries. What mattered at the moment was getting her to safety and then getting back home.

"I didn't bring much," Ray admitted. "I left so quickly that I didn't think I would need anything other than my wallet."

"You will need clothes. But I suppose they will have something at the safe-house," Joss suggested. She looked at her watch. They needed to get on the road before the sun went down, and if they didn't move soon, it was going to be too late.

"May I call my grandmother?" Ray asked hesitantly. She was getting the feeling Detective Carter wanted nothing to do with her, and anything beyond what was transpiring may be asking for trouble. But she had to know what was happening since she departed Albany. What if the men her father had warned her of found Nana?

Joss started a retort then hesitated. The detective in her wanted to tell the young woman to pack it up so they could hit the road. But the daughter in her empathized with the need to reach out to a maternal figure.

"Okay," Joss conceded reluctantly. "But make it quick." She walked toward the door of the office. "I need to take care of some last minute business, so I'll leave you alone." Ray hesitated, fear in her eyes. "But I'll be in the hall if you need me," Joss added quickly to give some reassurance to the frightened woman.

Closing the door, Joss looked for her partner. Her eyes scanned the room for any sign of Fusco. _Where is he?_ She pulled out her phone and dialed his number.

"You won't reach him," Captain Womack said. Joss turned to face the man she considered more foe than friend. She knew he had been involved the HR mess, but something had protected him and kept his sorry ass from being nabbed with the rest. And deep down inside, she still resented him for forcing her to get involved with Snow. As far as she was concerned, Womack was just as guilty as trying to kill The Man in The Suit as Snow.

"What do you mean?" she returned evenly. She kept her face clear of any expression that might give him a one up on her.

"He's out taking care of a cold case," Womack didn't elaborate any further. His disdain for Fusco was evident, but the jury was still out on Joss Carter. But she did disrupt the fine machinations of the NYPD by her lust for blood, and that pissed him off.

"He was assigned to help me with my…charge."

"Find someone else."

"It's too late to find someone else. Fusco is the only one I trust." Joss tried to rein in her frustration to keep from appearing insubordinate, but the more she tried to plead her case to the Captain, the harder it was becoming.

"Not my problem," he shrugged. Fusco had become a thorn in his ass from day one, and his partner was even worse with her determination to play by the rules. Well, not if he had a say.

"I cannot transport my charge by myself," Joss protested. She tried to remember that he outranked her, but it still wasn't enough to control the anger building up. It was no secret that they had never gotten along, and it was he who had turned Agent Snow on to her quest for The Man In The Suit. She had tried over the years to give him the benefit of the doubt, but with each confrontation it was apparent that her first assumption of the man was correct: He was an asshole.

"Take it or leave it, Detective. If you want to protect the piece of shit Quinn's kid, do it by yourself," Womack growled. He dared her to defy him.

Joss sighed. Despite her feelings, she was going to have to deal with the man until she had Ray safe and in the custody of the Feds. Then she could get back on track with her life and try to mend the bridge between her and Taylor.

Joss flashed him a smile full of saccharin. "Glad to have your full support, sir," she retorted in a crisp tone that didn't hide her true feelings. She waited until he walked away before pulling out her phone. Hitting two numbers, she waited for the line to connect.

"_Hey, this is T. Can't get your call now. Just tell me what you want at the tone, and I'll get back atcha later. Peace."_

Joss took a deep breath before responding. "Hey, Taylor, it's Mom. I have to go out of town for a couple of days on assignment," she explained. "I want you to stay with Grandma until I get back. Okay? I'll call you when I get back home. I love you."

Switching off the phone, Joss bit her bottom lip and wondered if she had done the right thing. It didn't matter, she shrugged, if Taylor wasn't speaking to her. But no matter how much he hated her, he still had to follow her requests. She was, after all, still the parent.

"I can't reach her," Ray's soft voice broke into Joss's thoughts.

Joss looked up from her phone flummoxed by the statement. "Who?"

"My grandmother," Ray replied. "I tried calling but all I got was the answering machine." She looked fearfully around the room. She didn't want to believe that something bad had happened, but she didn't know what and who to trust anymore.

"I'm sure that everything is alright," Joss reassured the young woman. "You can try to call her again when we get to the safe-house, okay?"

"Uh, sure," Ray conceded reluctantly.

"Do you have everything you need?" Joss asked. Ray nodded affirmatively. "Then let's go. The sooner we get to the safe-house, the sooner I can hand you over to the marshals." Joss cast a look at her partner's desk one last time before guiding her charge down the hall to the waiting car.  
****

"Joss Carter's on her way to the safe-house," Captain Womack spoke into the phone. His voice was low so it wouldn't carry.

"Are you sure?" the man on the other end of the line asked.

"I watched her walk out of the precinct myself."

"And Quinn's daughter was with her?"

"Saw her with my own eyes. I'm sure this is going to bring that fucker Quinn out into the open," Womack stated emphatically, not disguising his hatred for the man.

"We are pretty sure of his location. Once we nab his daughter, I'm sure he'll break his cover and come out into the open."

"What if it doesn't work?" Womack was apprehensive of the tactics being used to flush out the man who had betrayed them all. It was one thing to set Cal Beecher up and then shoot him in cold blood, but it was quite another to steal money that didn't belong to him. In his book that was the most unforgiveable of sins.

"After what we did to his mother, if the man doesn't surface, he's either a fool or dead," the man's voice held satisfaction at the trap they had conceived and put into place. "Is Carter alone?"

"She is," Womack confirmed. "I made sure of it myself. Her idiot partner is somewhere in the wind taking care of a cold case I assigned him to. He isn't going to be a problem."

"You don't mind if we take out a cop in the process?" The question was one of amusement than surprise.

Womack shrugged indifferently. "I've never liked her. She's a prissy, know-it-all who likes to stick her nose into business that doesn't concern her. Consider it gravy."

"Just making sure. I know that she had that close call a few months back…"

"Well, then you get to rectify what Quinn and Simmons failed to do."

"You'll be rewarded for this."

"Generously, I hope," Womack smiled broadly. Was it stupid luck that he was never tied to HR? Now he was going to get his in thousand fold.

"We'll talk again." The line was disconnected abruptly. Hanging up the receiver, Womack pushed back from the desk and walked over to the window of his office. From where he stood, he had a clear view at Joss's desk.

"Time you got yours, bitch," he muttered under his breath. And the comeuppance was going to be sweet.  
****

Taylor turned the knob on his locker combination until it clicked. Opening the slim door, he replaced two books and removed one for his next class. Closing the locker, he looked at his watch. His stomach rumbled. Still an hour before lunch, he realized. Maybe there was time to run down to the vending machine and grab a snack.

"Hey, T!"

Taylor turned around. "Hey, Marcus. What's up?" He extended his hand in greeting.

Marcus took Taylor's hand and pulled him into a quick hug. "Not much. You still coming to the party tomorrow night?"

"The one at Tony's place?" Taylor asked hesitantly. There was a part of him that knew the party was not something he wanted to be a part of, but the rebellious teen was finding that pushing the envelope was more fun than he could have imagined.

"Yeah. But I know with your mom being a cop and all, you're not going to want to be part of any scene that has drinking involved," there was just enough taunt in Marcus's tone to rub Taylor the wrong way. What his mom was shouldn't have any affect on his life.

A ring tone interrupted Taylor's reply. Glancing down briefly at the screen, he saw the word "MOM" flash up. For half a second he considered answering just to hear her voice. But then he remembered the scene in the kitchen and his stomach turned. On second thought, he could do without hearing her preach to him. With the flick of his thumb, he sent it to voicemail.

"I'm staying with my dad," Taylor informed his friend and hitched his book bag higher on his shoulder. "He doesn't care what I do as long as I'm happy. What time is the party?"

"Eight."

Taylor nodded with a smile. He felt the cloak of false bravado come over him and he embraced it. "I'll be there, man."

"I'll see you there, T." The two guys shook hands to seal the deal.


	16. Chapter 16

_Contrary to what some people PM'd me, I am NOT back. I have been so busy at work with extra hours that I can't think straight! It's been a crazy month and my brain is still pudding. I know all of you are supporting this story and waiting for another installment. And I have, sadly, let you down. I really am trying to do the best I can, and I thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy this new chapter._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Reese lurked beside the corner wall that faced the nurse's station. Three hours after Abigail Quinn was admitted, he was chomping at the bit to find out anything he could on her condition. But the increase in ER traffic had prevented him. Now that the coast was clear, it was time to make his move. Walking over to the long crescent shaped desk, he greeted the nurse with what he knew was his most attractive feature: his smile.

"Excuse me."

The nurse looked up from her paperwork. "May I help you?" she asked.

Reese produced the U.S. Marshal's shield and showed it to the nurse. "Marshal Jennings," he introduced himself. "I'm trying to find out the condition of one of your patients."

"Name?"

"Abigail Quinn." Reese waited patiently as the nurse typed the name into the computer and scanned the admittance list.

"I'm sorry, but I can't release that information."

"I understand." Reese turned on the charm just a tad. He didn't want to overdo it, but he needed to find out what the beating of an old woman and Alonzo Quinn had in common. "It's a matter of life or death that I speak to her. We have reason to believe that a fugitive in WITSEC has had a hand in this attack." Not exactly a lie, he reasoned, since it was possible that the two were linked.

"I would love to help you, Marshal…"

"Jennings." Another smile. Wider. He tilted his head. He could feel her breaking down.

"Marshal Jennings," she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. No falling for the charm this time. "I'm sorry, but I can't release any information on her condition. You understand, don't you?"

"What happened to her may be linked to a case I'm working on," Reese returned smoothly. Not exactly a lie, but he could tell he was going to have to work harder this time to get through.

The nurse shook her head as a form of consolation. "I'm sorry. I can direct you to our Human Resource person if you want."

Reese quickly tried to reformulate a new plan. He had to get in the hospital room to question Abigail Quinn. He knew that she had key to what was going on - or was about to happen - even if she wasn't aware of her knowledge.

"Is there a problem?" a familiar voice interjected before Reese could form a protest.

"Marshall Jennings is requesting to visit one of our patients," the nurse explained.

Shaw eyed Reese as her brow raised in mock surprise. "Is that so?"

"I just need to speak to her for a few minutes."

"I can't allow -"

Shaw held up her hand. "I'll handle this." She turned toward Reese. "It appears it's your lucky day, Marshall, since Mrs. Quinn wants to make a statement." She smiled encouragingly at the nurse. "I'll make sure he doesn't leave my sight. Come with me," she ordered her partner. Leading the way, Shaw used her badge to open the double doors to the Intensive Care Unit.

"A marshal?" she chided with just a hint of humour in her voice.

"A doctor?" Reese returned.

"Don't knock it, Marshal Jennings. It got you back to see the patient." Stopping outside the door of Abigail's room, Shaw's hand rested on the handle. "We have about five minutes before the evening rounds are made. Make it quick."

"I will."

"Are you sure you don't want me to do this?" Considering her nature, she didn't have the ability to sound concerned, but Reese was sure he heard something similar to it in her tone.

"Are you afraid I'm going to kneecap her if she doesn't tell me what I want to hear?" Reese attempted to sound flippant, but there was bitterness in his voice.

Her eyes narrowed. "You tell me. This is the mother of the man who tried to kill you and Joss. I can't imagine what you are going to do."

Reese cocked his head. "What would you do, Shaw?"

Shaw turned the handle. Her face was determined as she threw Reese a heated look. "You hurt her in any way, I will shoot you." She stepped back and allowed Reese inside.

"Thank you." Reese waited for the door to close before he approached the bed. For a brief moment his heart constricted as he looked at the woman lying on the hospital bed. Her face was a mass of bruises and lacerations. He saw where her hair had been shaved to allow the surgeon to stitch up the long cut that ran from her temple to past her hairline. The machines made ominous beeps as her breathing and heart rate were monitored.

"Mrs. Quinn?" Reese slowly approached the right side of the bed. He watched as her eyes fluttered before opening. Abigail's eyes widened with recognition.

"You," she whispered the word on a tortured breath. "Who…?"

"Don't try to speak," Reese told her. He flashed the badge. "I just need to ask you a few questions. Okay?" Abigail nodded. "Just blink once for yes and twice for no. Do you understand?"

Abigail blinked once.

"Do you know who did this to you?" Reese asked.

Two blinks.

"Do you know why they did this?"

One blink.

"Was it because of your son?"

A pause. Then Abigail closed her eyes and let out a sad sigh. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and raced down her ashen cheek.

Just as he figured, Reese thought and tried to tamp down his anger. Once again the actions of Alonzo Quinn had jeopardized an innocent person who had the misfortune of being associated with his sorry ass.

"Has he contacted you? Visited you?" Reese grilled the woman. He didn't mean to be harsh, but if Alonzo Quinn was on the loose, it was only a matter of time before hell followed behind him. He would be damned if he let Joss get caught up in that man's web again.

Abigail shook her head. She could see the fire of anger burning in the stranger's blue eyes. There was something about him that she couldn't put her finger on, but she could tell that he was connected in some way to Joss Carter.

"Do you know where he is?"

"She does," Abigail whispered thinly.

Reese tried to comprehend the two words. "She? She, who?" Quinn's wife was dead. He couldn't remember any other family other than Cal Beecher.

"Sonsee." Abigail struggled to remain conscious. "His…dau…daughter…" She closed her eyes.

"Quinn's daughter?" _Son of a bitch!_ He wanted to punch a wall. How had they missed that bit of information?

"She…trouble…told her to go to…the police…contact Joss…"

White fear shot thru Reese. "Joss Carter?" he demanded.

"She…she dated Cal," Abigail reasoned logically.

"Where is Quinn's daughter now?" He didn't want to think worst case scenario, but ever since the HR fiasco had begun and swept them into a vortex, he was leaving nothing to chance.

"Manhattan…I think." Abigail grabbed Reese's hand and held on fast. "Don't let them…" Her eyes filled with tears. "Don't…" The monitor sounded loudly as her heart rate picked up.

Reese looked down at the hand of the woman who had birthed the man who had brought such evil into their lives. He was tempted to pull away. Then he realized that the reaction he was experiencing was the one he had warned Joss about. He had gone down that road before, but he could not do that now. He had to be better.

"I promise," he assured her. "I will protect her." Attendants would be flooding the room soon and he had to leave.

"Thank you," Abigail breathed and closed her eyes. A small smile was on her face.

Reese pulled back and hurried to the hallway. As he rounded the corner, he could hear the quick footsteps of the staff as they headed to the room. Taking a moment, he leaned against the white brick wall and closed his eyes. Was the nightmare ever going to end, he wondered.

"What did she tell you?" Shaw asked as she slid up next to her partner. Though his features were stoic, she saw the trace of fear in his eyes. Something had gone wrong. And she knew it involved the team.

"The men who did this beating on Abigail Quinn did it to send a message to Alonzo Quinn."

"He's in WITSEC."

"They're hoping to draw him out. This was a message. And there is one more thing."

Shaw didn't normally feel trepidation and fear - it was a gift she was glad she didn't have - but this moment was enough to make her keenly aware that the mission they thought they were on had gone sideways.

"What is it?"

"Quinn has a daughter. Apparently whoever did this is looking for her, too." Reese's cheek twitched with barely concealed emotion. "And now she's on her way to Carter." He flicked his gaze toward Shaw. If a look was worth a thousand words, the one he gave her spoke volumes. She didn't have to ask what the implications of Quinn's daughter finding Joss could mean.

"I'll call Fusco. You call Harold." Shaw was barely out of her white coat as the pair hurried to the exit and toward the car. Time was of the essence, and they just realized that precious hours had just slipped thru their fingers.

Reese pressed the button on his earwig. "Harold? I need you to tell me where Joss is. Now." Yet, even as he said the words, he somehow felt that he had just made a deal with the devil.


	17. Chapter 17

_I don't know how to say that I am sorry for leaving you all hanging for over a month before I submitted this update. A lot has been going on in my life - partly work, partly personal - but I am crawling back up out of that hole and I am trying to get back on my feet. As a 'thank you' for your patience, I made this chapter a little longer than normal. There are no big surprises as I am very sure you can figure out who the "number" is. _

_Once again, thank you._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Alonzo Quinn was no fool. He was a few things - those badges he wore proudly - but no one could ever accuse him of being foolish. Perhaps that was the reason he had single-handedly controlled one of the most powerful organizations in Manhattan - if not the east coast. And having that power had given him insight into humans and their lack of reasoning. And in some ways it had prepared him for the way people would react in a situation.

He liked to think he could read people - or at least anticipate what was going to happen. And right now, he could tell that something was up. Okay, so maybe it was the little note that had been pinned inside his mailbox, but it was a little more than that; he could tell that he was being watched. Not so much witnessing a stranger in the area, he could feel it. Eyes were watching his every move.

The note had been vague - a clue, but it didn't take a detective to figure out that his daughter had been found. And now she was in trouble and perhaps on the run. Worst of all, he was sitting in a godforsaken desert in the middle of nowhere and he couldn't help her. And there was no one who could help him.

Shoving a few items into a duffel bag, Quinn pulled the zipper closed and hurried over to the closet. Furiously he moved items around until he came to the small door camouflaged to match the dark wood paneling. Opening it, he pulled out the small box that contained his new identity.

Yeah, he thought to himself, the Feds couldn't truly reform him - although they tried. But it was more than that now when his flesh and blood was being threatened. And he wasn't going to think about the money. He would take care of everything once he got Ray to safety.

Shoving the wallet and passport into the pocket of his leather jacket, he did a mental checklist of anything he could be missing. Nothing came to mind. A horn honked in the distance. His taxi was right on time.

He could go to prison for life for breaking out of WITSEC and taking the law into his own hands, but it wouldn't be the first time. But this time he had a plan for escape. He was never going back into federal custody again. He would rather die first.

The horn honked again. Yeah, he was coming, and if his plan for throwing the HR tail off worked, he would be arriving in NYC before they knew what hit them. And even if they did suspect, he had all the bases covered. They would be running in circles trying to pin him down. And the best part, no one knew where he was going or where he would be arriving.

Closing the door behind him, he pulled the hat down on his head and headed toward his freedom.  
******

Fusco was pissed. It was one thing to lead him on, but he drew the line at being played for a fool. And right now, he had been played for the biggest fool of them all.

Slamming his paperwork down on the desk, he pulled open the top drawer and tossed his service weapon in. Angrily he closed it. God, he needed a drink, he thought selfishly. A four hour drive to find out that the case didn't exist and there was no record of a call requesting his assistance. He was going to strangle whoever put him in that position.

"You look a little down, Fusco," Womack observed with slightly veiled sarcasm. "Your case go sideways?"

Fusco narrowed his eyes. "You know damn well there was no case. I don't know what the hell you're up to, but I don't appreciate being sent out on a wild goose chase."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Fusco took a couple steps forward so he was standing face to face with his nemesis. "You know what I'm talking about. That case in New Hampshire."

"Oh, that," Womack dismissed arrogantly. "I received the paperwork right after you departed." He turned around and walked to his office. Without invite, Fusco followed the Captain and slammed the door behind them.

Fusco shook his head. "What paperwork? There was no cold case. You sent me out there because you wanted me out of…" His words trailed off as he looked out the window at his partner's desk. "Where is Carter?"

"Escorting her witness to the safe house." Womack concentrated on the paperwork littering his desk.

"What do you mean?" Fusco could feel the fear and anger build up inside. Something had definitely gone sideways, and it wasn't the bullshit case in New Hampshire. "She and I were supposed to go on that together."

"Change of plans," Womack replied smugly.

"Change of plans? By whom?"

"Came from the top. Nothing I could do."

"Nothing you wanted to do," Fusco returned.

Womack folded his arms across his chest defiantly. "What are you accusing me of, _Detective_?"

"I don't know, _Captain_. Should I be suspicious? My partner is gone and protecting the daughter of your ex-boss. Something is hinky."

"The only thing hinky here, Detective, is you. I told you once before that if you got in my way that I would take you down - I don't care how many pictures that friend of yours has on me."

"I don't give a damn who gives you a blowjob in your off hours - or your on duty hours - for that matter," Fusco snarled. "You want to be a hypocrite while wearing that badge, that's your problem. But leave my partner out of this. She's been thru enough hell already."

"You better watch that tone, Detective."

"Or you'll do what? Demote me? The last time I looked, you don't have much power left, and what little bit you do is being controlled by Elias." Fusco leaned in menacingly. "And he really doesn't like you."

"Elias is history. And so are you if you don't curb that attitude."

Fusco's eyes blazed hot. He had to remember to keep his fists by his side. "Where is my partner?"

Womack smiled, but his eyes lacked the warmth of reassurance. "I was kept out of the loop; that is between her and the federal marshals. Why don't you go ask your friends?"

White hot anger surged thru Fusco and it took everything he had not to reach over and strangle the smugly, arrogant son of a bitch on the other side of the desk. He was sure he could write it up to look like an accident, but he didn't have time. He had to find Carter. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she was in danger.

"If anything happens to her, I'm going to make you pay. And if I find out that you had anything to do with it, I will guarantee that the reprieve you got after HR fell apart will make you wish you had gone down with Simmons."

Womack sized his opponent up. There was fight in the overweight detective. He was scrappy, too. But it wouldn't be much of a fight should they come to blows, he surmised with humour. "Is that a threat, Detective?"

"No, you son of a bitch, that is a promise." Fusco turned on his heel and stormed out of the office. He needed to punch something. Hell, he needed a drink. Instead, he punched in the code preset for Carter. Immediately it went to voicemail. Pissed, he disconnected. At that same moment, his burner phone rang.

"Is that you, Wonderboy?" he greeted.

"Where is Carter?" There was no time for formalities.

"I don't know. She was gone when I got back."

"You were supposed to be with her!" Reese growled.

"I didn't have much say in the matter when Womack sent me out of state for a bullshit cold case." Fusco went over to Carter's desk and opened a drawer. Maybe she left something behind - a clue, perhaps - to where she was heading.

"Womack?"

"Yeah, that bastard you took pictures of. He didn't admit it, but I know he had a hand in separating me and Carter. What do you think he's up to?" Fusco inquired.

"Nothing good. I spoke to Quinn's mother. She thinks that Quinn's daughter's life is in jeopardy."

"Quinn's mother? What makes you think she's telling the truth?" Fusco lowered his voice. He wasn't paranoid - not anymore, but he wasn't trusting, either.

"I don't think she'd lie after the work over they gave her."

"Sheesh. What is this about?" Fusco swore they had left that bullshit behind when HR fell and Quinn was taken into custody.

"Money…if I have to make a guess. Quinn isn't finished screwing people over."

"But HR is dead and gone," Fusco protested. "We took them down."

"Not all of them. Womack took his orders from someone, and that someone wants Quinn's head."

"And they are using Carter as bait." Fusco went from angry to wanting to vomit. Was the nightmare ever going to end?

"I need you to find out who is behind this."

"I _need_ to find my partner," Fusco returned with determination.

"I'll take care of Carter. You work on tracking down Womack's boss."

"Where is Shaw?"

"With me. If they are coming after Carter, I need all the firepower I can get."

"You don't think it's Elias, do you?"

"No."

Fusco wanted to believe that the HR mastermind was staying clear. But the man had put Simmons out of everyone's misery, so he had to give Elias the benefit of the doubt. Womack, on the other hand, wasn't going to get that.

"I'll do what I can and get back with you."

Reese disconnected without another word.

Fusco turned his back and punched in another code. He held his breath as the "Forced Pairing" worked it's charm on Womack's phone. **SUCCESSFUL**, flashed on the screen. He was in.

The phone rang again. "Finch?"

"Hello, Detective."

"Since I already spoke to John, I thought it would be you," Fusco greeted tongue in cheek.

"Thank you. I thought you were with Carter."

"Change of plans. I'm on it."

"I am going to need you to let Mr. Reese take care of tracking Joss down."

"What's wrong?"

"A number."

"Perp or victim?"

Finch's fingers flew over the keyboard. "I don't know. It could be an alias. I can't get anything more than he or she is flying into JFK in two hours."

Fusco gave a snort. "You don't know if it's a man or a woman? Is this another identity theft?"

"I doubt it. This person may be running from someone who wants to kill them."

"But, Carter…"

"Mr. Reese will handle it."

Fusco sighed. "Okay." He took out his notepad and clicked his pen. "What's the person's name?"

"Tracy Ward."

"Thanks, Finch. I'll take care of it." Fusco turned off his phone and grabbed his service weapon. He didn't care what Tall, Dark &amp; Brooding said, once he rescued that Tracy person from the airport, he was going to be out there saving his partner. And it was going to take more than an HR bullet to stop him.


	18. Chapter 18

_Slowly but surely I am chugging out the chapters so I can get this story finished in a timely manner. I appreciate your patience. And for the record, the next couple of chapters will be worth the wait!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Up beat music streamed from the strategically positioned speakers to mix with the natural sounds of conversation and dishes being delivered or cleared. But in the far corner, tucked away from the crowd, the mood was strained - to say the least - between the women sitting in the booth.

Joss tried to concentrate on the Chef's salad, but her fork kept mindlessly stabbing the lettuce. She tried to tell herself that the young woman sitting across from her was innocent of her father's sins, but that didn't quell the anger that was slowly building. She could still hear the gunshots and her scream as the bullets found their mark. When she closed her eyes she could see the fear and anguish in John's eyes as he held her close.

"Will there be anything else?" the middle-aged but pleasant looking waitress asked. Her pitcher of water in one hand and the carafe in the other were poised to refill glasses on command.

Pulled back to the present, Joss blinked quickly. "Uh, no." She shook her head. "Nothing else."

"Top off your coffee?" The waitress offered a comforting smile.

"Sure."

The waitress poured the dark liquid, then turned her attention to Ray. "Would you like anything else? More water?"

"I'm fine."

"We'll take the check," Joss piped up.

"We do have fresh blueberry pie," the waitress offered.

Joss gave her a tight smile. "Thank you, but the check will be all."

"Okay."

Joss waited for the woman to leave before turning her attention to across the table. "When you finish, we'll be back on the road."

"Where are we headed?" Ray asked. She took another bite of the meatloaf and chewed slowly. She didn't dare swallow for fear of choking.

"I can't tell you that."

Ray dropped her shoulders and set her fork to the side. "I understand. You're afraid someone might overhear."

"That's not it," Joss contradicted. It was taking everything she had to keep her temper under control. Deep breath and a count to five only aleviated her emotions for a short time.

"You think I might tell _him._" Ray returned with a barely concealed scoff. "I understand why you don't like him and you don't trust me. But I swear, I haven't had anything to do with him."

Joss leaned back against the back of her chair and gave a hard stare. "Are you finished?"

"Detective Carter," Ray pleaded passionately, not caring what kind of light it put her in, "I swear that I didn't know about HR and what my….what Alonzo was involved in. I lived with my mother until she passed away a couple of years ago and I went to college. Trust me. I'm sorry-"

Joss raised her hand to silence Ray's rush of words. "I don't care. I have one mission and that is to deliver you to the U.S. Marshals. Alive. So, if you're finished, you might want to go freshen up so we can hit the road."

Ray started to protest, but reconsidered when she looked at Joss's expression. "Okay." She stood up and walked to the far end of the diner.

Joss let out her breath in one long sigh. She wondered if she should call Harold and tell him what was happening, but that would mean John would get involved. And where John was involved, she mused, kneecaps ceased to exist.

She played with the corner of the napkin. No, it was better that she do this on her own and get the young woman delivered to the authorities safe and sound. Then she could get back to her life and job. But did any of those include John? Could they? Could she?

_I just want to hold you, Joss._

_It's Tuesday, Carter. You need to call him._

A part of her did want to call John and have that talk, but right now was not the best time. She gave a snort and shook her head. Would _any_ time be a best time? No. And that was the main reason it was for the best the relationship they could have had was nipped in the bud.

"Here is your check, honey," the waitress said to break Joss out of her thoughts. "I can take it or you can bring it up to the register."

Joss reached into the small clutch sitting beside her. "I'll pay now." She handed the credit card over.

The waitress gave a comforting smile. "I'll be right back."

Joss sipped her water slowly and looked at her watch. It was already late in the afternoon and they still had a couple of hours to go. The stress of the past few days suddenly caught up with her and she yawned.

"Long journey or just a quick trip?" the waitress asked and handed the receipt and card back to Joss.

"Going out of state for a family matter." Joss wrote in the tip and signed her name.

"I heard a storm might be coming this way. I hope you get to your destination before it hits."

Joss grabbed her clutch and stood up. "Thank you for the heads up."

"Drive safe." The waitress turned on her heel and left at the same moment Ray appeared.

"Stay here," Joss ordered. "I'll be back in two minutes."

Ray stood and waited, although the anxiety of being on the road and running for her life was slowly taking its toll. She wanted to run away, somewhere no one could ever find her. But the reality was that the crimes her father committed would never allow her to live free; she would always be looking over her shoulder and wondering when the bullet with her name on it would hit its mark.

"Ready?" Joss asked briskly as she walked up to Ray. The look in the detective's eyes warned Ray not to consider anything that might jeopardize the situation.

"Yes."

Together the two women walked out of the diner. In a couple of hours they would never have to see one another again. And as far as Joss was concerned, that was fine by her.

********  
Fusco checked his watch. What was taking the plane so long, he wondered to himself. It was bad enough he had to submit to a security check, but now he was on a hurry up and wait for some guy Finch was insisting that he protect. He needed to be out trying to locate his partner before the bad guys descended.

He needed to know what was going on, but his hands were tied. Womack was no more forthcoming now than when the bastard was destroying things in the name of HR. _If anything happens to Joss…_ No, he concluded, there wouldn't be an army strong enough to hold him back from killing the man and anyone else involved. He checked his watch again. He didn't have all day, he groused. Suddenly his cell rang. Grabbing it, he hit "talk". "Fusco," he announced.

"Detective, I got the information on the vehicle that was issued to Detective Carter," a voice told him.

"Send it to me."

"Just did. You owe me."

"Whatever you want. Just make sure that you keep this between us, you understand Dillon?" Fusco warned. "If this goes sideways and I find out it was you..."

"I am a man of my word, Detective."

"See you when I get back." Fusco disconnected the call and pressed two numbers. "Hey, Glasses."

"Hello, Detective," Finch greeted. "I trust that you have some information on Joss?"

"I have the VIN to her vehicle. I am sending it to you now." Fusco sent the text. "I had to pull in a big favour to get this."

"I am sure that you worked your charm, Detective. Does anyone else know about your deal?" Finch hurried over to the computer and logged on.

"Not if they want to keep their job. Just find her, Finch."

"Has our number arrived?"

Fusco looked at the ARRIVAL board. "Funny you should say that; the plane just landed. Gotta go." He made his way over to the area to wait. "About time," he muttered under his breath. Impatiently he waited for the passengers to disembark the plane, his eyes searched every face for…something to indicate who Tracey Ward might be. Hell, he thought to himself, Finch never said what the person looked like.

"Great! What am I….?" Something caught his eye and he blinked twice to clear his vision. He would know that profile blind. "What the hell?!" He hurried over to catch up with the line of people. As politely as he could, he pushed his way thru the bodies clogging the walkway. He needed to catch the son of a bitch before he made it out the door.

Nearly out of breath from sprinting, Fusco reached out and laid a hand on the shoulder of the man disguised in a ball cap, jersey and jeans. It was all he could do to rein in his temper as his charge turned around.

"Welcome back home, scumbag," Fusco growled as he tore off the dark sunglasses to reveal the face of Alonzo Quinn. "Should I kill you now or wait until later?"

A brief spark of fear passed across Quinn's face as it dawned on him that he had been caught by his nemesis, then he regained his composure and smiled with complete arrogance. "Hello to you too, Detective Fusco. Where is my daughter?"


	19. Chapter 19

_Once again, I am sorry for the delay. Long week at work. Again. I hope this extra long chapter makes up for it. There are three scenes here that are all interwoven together - and I did my best to make sure they helped build up to the last paragraph. Let me know if I succeeded._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"I'll tell you where your daughter is when you tell me what the hell you're doing back in New York, you scumbag," Fusco growled threateningly. It had taken everything he had to not shove the epitome of evil thru the wall.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Quinn deflected smoothly. "I've come back to visit my relatives and my city."

"This isn't your city anymore. Or have you forgotten?" Fusco tried to tap down the urge to strangle the man who had nearly ruined his life in every way possible. "Now I'm going to ask you again, and I want an honest answer."

"When did _you_ ever deal with honesty, Detective?"

"The day I left HR and came back as a mole to bring your sorry ass down," Fusco returned. His hand itched to feel the butt of his service revolver and pull the trigger. No one would blame him and no one would miss Quinn, he reasoned. "What are you doing back here?"

"I've come to protect my daughter."

"When did you ever give a damn for anyone other than yourself, you bastard?"

"A father's love knows no bounds," Quinn quoted realistically. "You of all people should know this."

"Love?" Fusco scoffed and felt his blood boil hot. "What would a cold hearted son of a bitch like you know about love? The only thing you've ever _loved_ is power and money."

"You underestimate me, Fusco."

"And you underestimate _me_, asshole! What's stopping me from killing you here, right now?"

"Your ethics."

"Fuck my ethics!"

"Look," Quinn began earnestly, "I don't want to get into a battle with you; I just want to find my daughter."

"Your daughter is with my partner - the one you tried to kill, remember? The one whose friends you killed, remember them? Szymanski? Beecher?" Fusco's grip tightened around the lapels of Quinn's coat. "My partner is out there protecting your daughter from the same pricks who beat up your mother and left her for dead. _That _is where she is!"

The colour drained from Quinn's face at the mention of his mother's beating. "Where is she?" he whispered.

"Why should I tell you? So you can go and lead them back to her? I don't give a damn what they do to you - let them kill you and dispose of your body in the Hudson - for all I give a damn - hell, you probably stole from them. But I won't allow one more innocent person to become your pawn in this shitty game you want to keep playing."

Quinn tried to break free of Fusco's hold. "Let me go!"

"The only place you're going is on a one-way trip to hell, you bastard. But until then, I have to find some where safe to keep you." Fusco considered his options which weren't many. There was no telling if Quinn had already been seen and his cover blown, but they had to get out of the airport before all hell broke loose. Debating quickly, Fusco grabbed Quinn by the arm and pulled him into the crowd heading toward the EXIT.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe and where they can't find your sorry ass." Fusco gripped Quinn's arm so tight his knuckles turned white. "Move it!"  
******

No words were spoken between Reese and Shaw as the car sped down the highway. Technically they were flying blind, but if Reese knew one thing about Carter, it was that she would take the most out of the way route to a destination.

The phone rang ominously. Shaw hit the microphone to put Finch on speaker.

"Mr. Reese. I have located Detective Carter."

"Where is she?"

"Approximately forty minutes away…in the opposite direction you are heading in."

"Shit!" Reese hit the steering wheel hard enough to cause the car to jerk sharply to the left.

"I've sent the coordinates to your GPS."

Reese looked over at the computerized map. Taking his foot off the gas, he slowed just enough before announcing, "Hold on." A second later the car tires screeched as the one ton vehicle made a sudden U-Turn in the middle of the highway.

Jerked to the left, Shaw felt her head snap sharp to the right and hit the passenger window. She bit her tongue to stop the expletive. But the look on Reese's face sent a chill thru her. What was supposed to be a quick mission had turned into something more dangerous than they could ever have predicted. And they were all stuck in the middle of evil…again.

It was worse than déjà vu.  
******

Joss kept her eyes focused on the windshield and the road. She wasn't trying to think of the moment or of what transpired in the diner, she was trying to keep her mind clear. She had one mission and that was to deliver the woman of her arch enemy to the U.S. Marshals and be free and clear of Alonzo Quinn…once and for all.

But as hard as she tried, her thoughts went to Taylor. She tried to contact him twice more, but the phone kept switching over to voicemail. She couldn't put her finger on why she needed to hear her son's voice, but maybe it was the mother in her. The fight had been bad and one of them was going to have to stand up and make the first move.

She pulled her phone out and looked at the screen. No new messages. She sighed. She would try again later.

Reaching over to the dash, she turned on the radio. She pushed the scan button to find a radio station with something decent enough to help finish the journey. The upbeat strains of Regina's "Baby Love" filled the interior. Unconsciously her fingers tapped to the beat. Softly she sang to the song.

"You like this?" Ray asked hesitantly.

"What?" Joss was caught off guard by Ray's question.

"The song."

"It was popular when I was in high school," Joss returned but didn't elaborate.

"80's music…I like it. My…he liked classical stuff. Tchaikovsky, Grieg, and Beethoven...they were always on. It drove me crazy, but I learned to appreciate it." Ray was quiet for a minute. "Nana likes country," she said wistfully. "Not today's stuff, though, she likes George Jones and Charlie Pride. The old stuff."

"So did my grandmother," Joss replied. "She had every Hank Williams Jr album."

The song ended and another came on. A heavy silence fell between the women as they realized they had spoken civilly and shared a common interest.

"How much longer?" Ray asked.

"About another hour. Why?"

"Just wondering." Ray had no intention of telling Detective Carter that she was thirsty and her bladder was full. She could hold out another hour.

"Do you need to pull over?"

"Umm…not if we don't have to."

"The next rest stop we see, we'll pull over and stretch our legs," Joss offered. Her attention was suddenly drawn to the rearview mirror and the headlights in the far distance. Her posture straightened as every instinct went on high alert. It was probably nothing, but she wasn't going to bet on it.

Gripping the steering wheel, she kept her eyes on the road and the mirror. The seconds ticked by slowly. Joss held her breath as the lights came close, then closer.

Ray turned her head to look out the back window. She started to speak, then thought twice. Joss was in Army Officer mode and was analyzing the situation that could help them survive should they be ambushed. Whatever Ray had to say could wait.

Joss could feel the sweat bead on her forehead and trickled down her cheek. She tried to catch her breath, but the oxygen seemed to have disappeared. She wasn't going to panic. No, she ordered herself, she was going to pull it in and hold it together.

"_What is it about you that makes you want to do everything on your own?"_

"_I can't lose you, Joss."_

"_You're not alone."_

The interior shrunk as the headlights came closer. Her right hand blindly reached for her service weapon. Then at the last second the car changed lanes and sped by at a high rate of speed.

Joss let out her breath. She closed her eyes for a second and sent a prayer upward. That was close.

A road sign passed by.

"Ten miles to the next rest stop," Joss announced. They were going to be late, but she needed to pull over and pull herself together. Then she was going to call John. Pride be damned, but she was going to need help completing this mission before she lost her mind to paranoia.

_Just breathe, Joss. Just breathe,_ she told herself. Nearly four years in combat in some of the worst areas on planet earth, surrounded by death and bombs, and she had never had a panic attack. Another deep breath and she focused - or tried to - on the road. The sun was just beginning to set. They had time…

A huge jolt caused Joss to fly forward toward the steering wheel. At the last second the seatbelt tightened and pulled her back against the seat.

"What the hell was…" Her question was cut off by another jolt. This time the force caused the SUV to careen into the other lane. With expert hands, Joss corrected its direction at the same time an 18-wheeler flew by, his horn blaring a barely too late warning.

"What is happening?" Ray cried out. Her right hand gripped the handle of the passenger door so tight her nails dug into the faux leather covering.

"They found us," Joss snapped.

"How?" Ray gasped. "I swear, Detective, I didn't…" Another jolt. The back window blew in. The sound was like a gunshot and Ray screamed in fear. The force showered the interior with tiny squares of glass.

Ray closed her eyes and started to pray. She wanted her Nana. She wanted her mom. Her nails dug deeper.

Joss only had one thought: Get the hell out of there and get to safety. She couldn't reach for her gun, and she couldn't take an alternate route; she was trapped. Then she remembered the rest stop. Five more miles. _God help us!_

Her phone rang. Distracted by the familiar ringtone, Joss took her eye off the road and the assailants for a second to look at the screen: Taylor!

Joss didn't remember the hit that caused the SUV to jerk sharply to the left before sliding off the road. One flip led to another as the vehicle rolled down the embankment.


	20. Chapter 20

_If I had to pick one thing I really love about writing, it would be that I can incorporate my personal experiences into my stories. This chapter does just that! Had I not witnessed with my own eyes the head on collision right outside my residence that caused an SUV to roll over three times, rip off the tire, and end up resting beside a tree, and the driver emerged with nothing worse than a broken wrist (thank God!), I would have never believed it possible! Airbags and seatbelt are what saved her. And for the record, the driver in the other car was texting and speeding._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Joss had a vague memory of the vehicle leaving the road and turning over - and then her mind went blank for a few seconds. Coming to, she tried to look around, but something warm and wet was running in her eyes. Wiping it away with the back of her hand, she cried out in pain.

"Ray," Joss blindly called out to the young woman. "Ray!"

No answer.

Using her left hand, Joss wiped her eyes and blinked. The air bags had deployed on both sides and Ray appeared to be breathing, but from the bruise on her cheek, there could be a head injury. Despite the risks of moving and causing further damage, they had to get out of the car before their attackers arrived.

"Sonseeahray!" Joss ordered in her best Warrant Officer tone. That seemed to rouse Ray.

"Detective?" Ray looked around at the interior of the car, trying to piece together the situation. "What happened?"

"We got run off the road." Joss tried to open the glove compartment with her left hand, but nothing seemed to be working. "Open that for me and grab my weapon."

Shaken, Ray did as she was told. "Are you okay?"

"I think my wrist is broken." Joss tried to move her right hand once more and bit off a curse word. "I need you to lock and load that for me. Can you do that?"

"Yes." Ray readied the weapon and handed it over to Joss. "I hear something." Fear crept into her gut. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. They were dead.

"Oh, god!" Ray cried out in fear and started to cry.

"Quiet!" Joss snapped. "Pull it together, Sonseeahray, and pull it together now! I need your help to get us out of here, is that understood?"

Ray sniffled and nodded.

"Good. Can you open your door?"

"Y-y-yes."

"Get out." Joss waited for Ray to exit the vehicle before following. The sound of twigs snapping filled the air. Crouched behind the vehicle, the pair waited. And prayed.  
*****

"Where is she?" Bogle asked and readied his gun. His eyes looked around for any sign of the vehicle carrying the daughter he was supposed to bring back safe and sound.

"I think they went down over the side," one of the men answered. He hurried over to the side of the road and looked down. Despite the dusky tone of the sky due to the sun setting, he was pretty sure he could make out the vehicle.

"They better not be dead," Bogle told the man who had stepped out of the driver's side.

"You said incapacitate the vehicle," the driver protested.

"I didn't say kill her."

"And the detective?"

"Collateral damage. She's been a thorn in HR's side for too long. As far as I am concerned, she can go to hell," Bogle bit out. "Are you ready?" he called out to the other two men. "We go in and extract Quinn's kid and then we get the hell out of here."

Starting down the incline, the four men made their way over the brush and roots toward where the SUV rested against a large tree trunk.

"Did you hear that?" the first man whispered.

"Keep going!" Bogle ordered.  
*****

Reese had barely put the car in park before he jumped out. No words were required between him and Shaw as they readied their guns. One glance at the skid marks, the empty car, and the glass on the road told them all they needed to know.

"Reese…" Shaw began when she heard the voices. With a nod of her head, she indicated where the sounds had come from. Years of CIA training enabled the pair to form a plan without any words being spoken.

Reese took the less obvious path, while Shaw hurried down the same trail the assassins apparently had taken. Her eyes were trained for anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly a movement caught her eye. Turning quickly, she fired twice and relished in the sound of the bullets hitting their mark.

A second later, a bullet whizzed by her head in response, and she barely had time to duck. Shooting blind, she pulled the trigger in rapid succession. Gun fire was returned. Moving stealthily, Shaw hid behind the nearest tree and tried to catch her breath.

"Where are you, Reese?" she muttered under her breath and waited for the gun fire to pause before filling the air with her response. A groan and thud. Shaw smiled. That was two.

There was a loud whistle that filled the air and then sound of footsteps hurrying away. A few seconds later tires screeched and then faded.

"Shaw!"

"Over here." Shaw stepped out from the shadows. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. You?"

Shaw looked up and saw the SUV resting beside the tree. One of the front tires had been ripped off and lay five feet away. "Reese."

He didn't need a second prompting. Reese ran over to the vehicle. "Joss! Joss!" he called out, pulling on the driver's door. He looked inside at the interior and found it empty. His blood ran cold.

"John?" Joss answered and stepped out from behind the mangled wreck.

"Joss," Reese breathed and pulled her to him. She was alive! Wonderfully and miraculously alive! His arms wrapped her in a protective embrace. He kissed her hair, her lips. He had to remember to breath and tell himself that she was alive!

"I'm okay. I'm okay," Joss managed to say between kisses and tried to pull back. The sudden burst of emotion was almost too overwhelming to process. But at the same time she reveled in being found and being safe.

"Are you sure?" She had said she was, but he needed to ask again. He couldn't leave anything to chance. Never again would he leave Joss and her safety to chance.

"I think my wrist is broken, but I'm okay." Reese held her hand gently. By the fading light he could already see the swelling beginning.

"Shaw!"

"There is a First-Aid Kit in the back of the car," Shaw said. She looked over at the scared and frightened young woman crouched behind the back tire of the SUV. "Come on out; we're the good guys."

Ray stood up and hesitantly approached Shaw. "I'm-"

"Quinn's daughter. Come with me." Shaw gestured for the young woman to follow. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I-I think so. I d-don't know," Ray stammered. Her face hurt, but she was too frightened to say it aloud.

"John, how did you find us?" Joss asked breathlessly.

"We'll worry about that later. We have to get out of here before they come back." His trained eye scanned the area for anything out of place. Darkeness was quickly absorbing what little light remained. They had to get to safety. "Give me your gun." Joss did as she was told. Reese shoved it in the back of his waistband. Then he reached down and picked Joss up in his arms.

"What? What are you doing?" she protested.

"Getting you out of here." His strides were long and hurried.

"I can walk."

"You're hurt."

"My wrist."

"Your face too. You're hurt, Joss. Let me help." Bracing against gravity, Reese put all of his weight into his feet to ascend the modest but tricky incline. Making it to the top, he saw that Shaw and Ray were already in the car. Setting Joss on her feet, he opened the back passenger side door. With gentle hands, he helped her inside and followed.

"Go, Shaw!" he ordered as he closed the door. She didn't need to be told twice. Gunning the engine, she peeled away from the scene.

"Where are we going?"

"Just keep driving until I tell you to stop," Reese replied. Then he began to take care of Joss.  
****

Bear barked excitedly as the sound of footsteps approached. Curious about the canine's reaction, Finch limped as fast as he could to the gate.

"Detective Fusco," Finch tried to hide the surprise in his voice. His eyes darted between the beleaguered detective and the man standing beside him. "Alonzo Quinn."

"I hope you don't mind me bringing this scumbag here, but I was pretty much out of options as to where to hide his ass."

Finch unfastened the lock on the gate and pulled it open. "Bear, zit!" he ordered. The dog took a protective stance as he stayed close to his master.

"So, you're the guy behind the Man In The Suit," Quinn gloated.

"Shut up!" Fusco ordered and rudely shoved the man down the hall. "Where can I put this piece of garbage?"

Finch hurried behind the pair. "The room at the end of the hall on the right."

"I have rights," Quinn protested.

"You _have_ the right for me to unleashed the dog on you if you don't sit down and shut up," Fusco returned and pushed Quinn into a chair.

Quinn looked around the room and smiled. But his smile was anything but pleasant - it was downright chilling. "I never got your name," he addressed Finch.

"My name is not important," Finch replied in a cold tone that left no room for argument. "What is important is trying to keep you alive until we can locate our mutual friends."

"Do they have my daughter?"

"When was the last time you heard from Wonder Boy?" Fusco asked Finch, ignoring Quinn.

"After I sent him the coordinates..."

"Do they have my daughter?" Quinn interrupted to repeat his question.

"...over an hour ago," Finch continued without missing a beat.

"I'll have to go out and see if I can find them."

"Do they have my daughter with them?" Quinn raised his voice and stood up. Instantly, Bear went into attack mode. Saliva dripped from his mouth as he barked menacingly at the man he considered a threat.

Startled, Quinn recoiled. His stance was still defiant and angry, but his eyes showed fear. And Bear fed on it.

"Bear! _Af! Rechts!_" Finch and Fusco commanded simultaneously. The dog calmed down. Taking his place beside Finch, he kept a wary eye on the threat. He couldn't explain or understand why he didn't trust the man his mutual friend brought over, but he wanted to rip him to pieces. His training wouldn't permit going against orders, but he eagerly waited for the okay.

"Sit down, asshole." Fusco shoved Quinn back into the chair. "You'll speak when I tell you to speak, or I'll sic this dog on you. He already doesn't like you, so I don't think he'll need much prompting."

Quinn did as he was told. The defiance was still there, but not as obvious as before. He and Bear eyed one another silently.

"Was it wise to bring him here, Detective?" Finch wondered as they walked to the hallway so they could talk in private.

"I didn't have much choice. It was either here or one of the garbage barges in the Sound. I didn't want to contaminate landfills with him," Fusco replied.

Finch looked at the man in the study and sighed. "This may not be a good idea."

"It's the only one I had. If they find him, they find our mutual friends. I will not risk their lives again. Have you heard from John?"

"Not yet. You don't suppose….?" Finch left the question hanging. There was a slight possibility that the men intent on locating Alonzo Quinn's daughter for their evil plan could have already located her and Joss. He quickly banished the negative thought. He didn't want to go down that road. Not again.

"You said Shaw is with him. Between those two, I'm sure everything is okay."

"But what about him?"

"Let him stay here. It may be the closest he gets to ever being behind bars." With that, Fusco whistled for Bear. Once the dog was clear, Fusco slammed the gate closed and snapped on the lock. "Don't go anywhere," he warned his nemesis. Then he and Finch left to find their friends.

"Can I at least get a bathroom break?" Quinn called out behind them, his voice echoed off the empty walls.


	21. Chapter 21

_With the excitement and drama of the last couple of chapters, I've decided to tone it down for a tiny bit and write some bridge chapters. Don't worry, it's not going to take away from what is about to go down - not by a long shot! It's just that we seriously need a little CaReese right now, and since they were willing to chat loud enough to rouse me from a dead sleep, I felt I owed them to write it down. Oh, and by the way, I am dipping back into S-1 and borrowing a little something from "Baby Blue". Enjoy!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

The miles and minutes seemed to drag, but Shaw kept the car heading in the direction Reese had ordered. The horizon had gone from pink to purple to dark blue and finally to black. And into that black she sped on. But she kept a hyper-vigilant watch on the rearview mirror for anyone who might be following them. Her killer instinct was on high, and she pitied anyone who might cross her path at this moment.

Glancing over at Ray, she quickly diagnosed the young woman with shock and a possible concussion. And if the bruise on her cheek was any indicator, the possibility of a fracture couldn't be ruled out. Darting her eyes to the rearview mirror, she checked out the pair in the backseat. Joss had seemed to take the full brunt of the crash, and it was more than likely there could be more than a broken wrist to deal with. She cursed under her breath. There was going to be hell to pay, but she wasn't going to let Reese take all the pleasure of wiping out the bastards.

But first, she wanted to know where they were going.

"Reese?" Shaw inquired to the man in the back. "How much further?"

"A few more miles."

"We need a hospital."

"They will look for us there." He checked Joss' wound by the moonlight and noticed the bleeding had stopped.

"Who will be looking?" Joss asked.

"It's complicated, Joss. We'll talk about it when we get to the safe house."

"If our lives are in danger…"

"If we go to a hospital, they will be." Reese looked at the landmarks. "Shaw, there should be a big oak with a side burned off, coming up. Make a right on the dirt road immediately following."

Shaw slowed down and made the turn as gently as she could, but the unexpected pothole caused the car to lurch hard to the right. Ray cried out.

"Watch it!" Reese snapped.

"Sorry," Shaw apologized and focused her attention to making the ride smoother, despite the pitch black and unfamiliar territory. The sound of the low-hanging branches hit and scraped against the car and added to the already heightened tension as the road seemed to go on forever. Just as Shaw was about to ask Reese where the hell they were, the headlights picked up what appeared to be the outline of a building.

Driving closer, a cabin came into view. Pulling into the circular driveway, Shaw put the car in PARK and turned off the engine. She turned around to look at her partner.

"Where are we?"

"The late Don Moretti's safe-house," Reese replied simply.

"Are you telling me that we are going to be hiding out at a mafia boss' residence?" Shaw was a bit appalled at the idea.

Reese shrugged. "It's not as though he's going to be using it." He opened the door and stepped out. "Come here, Joss."

"I can walk," she stated defiantly as she slowly moved her aching and sore body across the passenger seat. With a shaky hand, she held on to the door and pulled herself up. She closed her eyes and tried to swallow down the bile that was rising in her throat.

Reese reached out and held her. "Let me help, Joss."

Swallowing hard, Joss nodded. "Okay," she gave in to his request. A second later she was swung into his strong arms and held tight in a protective embrace.

Reese gently carried Joss up the porch steps to the front door. A second later, Shaw picked the lock and reached over to turn on the lights. Bright lights filled the spacious room to blind them briefly as they adjusted to the change.

Shaw walked over to the long oval shaped dining room table and placed the First-Aid kit down. Stepping into the kitchen, the sound of running water broke the oppressive silence. A minute later she returned, drying her hands.

"Ready when you are," she invited and opened the box. Methodically, she removed the items she was going to need to patch up the injured women. She pulled on the latex gloves, then gestured to the chair opposite where she sat.

Reese set Joss on her feet so she could sit down. Leaning against the wall, his body was angled toward the front door, but his eyes were trained on the woman he loved. He pushed down the part that demanded he get in the car and hunt down the men who had tried to kill Joss and Ray. Sure, he had no feelings one way or the other where Quinn's daughter was concerned, but she was an innocent party whose only crime was to be the child of Alonzo Quinn.

"That doesn't look good," Shaw remarked as she touched the laceration on Joss' forehead. With expert hands, she cleaned the wound and inspected it. Just deep enough to require stitches, she was thankful it was nothing more serious.

"How bad is it?" Joss tried to keep her teeth from chattering as the adrenaline slowly left her body.

"You're going to need stitches, Joss."

"Uh," Joss looked for support, then at the array of tools laid out on the table top. "Is there another option?"

"Like a band-aid and gauze?" Shaw returned. Joss nodded. "Nope." She threaded the needle.

"Do we have any lidocaine?" Joss wondered aloud.

Shaw shook her head. "Sorry." Her hand poised, ready to sew. "This is going to hurt, Joss, but I'll try to hurry."

Taking a deep breath, Joss dug her fingernails into the arm of the chair and closed her eyes. "Do it." She tried not to cry out as the needle pierced her skin. As she tried to remember to breathe, she felt a warm, strong hand take hers and hold firm. Opening her eyes, she saw Reese standing beside her. He smiled reassuringly.

"Keep still," Shaw ordered. Joss braced herself for more pain.

Slow and sure, Shaw did her best to make sure the stitches were firm but small. It was bad enough there was going to be a scar; it didn't need to be acerbated by haphazardly placed stitches. Knotting the end of the thread, Shaw cut it off and leaned back.

"Done." She examined her handiwork. "Not bad, if I say so myself. Do you want to see?" she asked.

"No," Joss declined. Her head throbbed from stress and injury. All she wanted to do was lay down and sleep.

"Now your wrist." Shaw picked up Joss' right hand and moved it. Joss cried out in pain. Reese shot his partner a warning look.

"It's broken," Shaw stated matter of factly. "All I can do it set it the best I can until we get you to the hospital."

"That bad?"

"Without an X-ray, I can only guess, but it may need surgery." Shaw looked up at Reese. "Until we can get to a hospital, I'm going to need something to brace the bone. Flat, thin, about 2 inches wide and 6 inches long."

Reese gave Joss' hand a squeeze before he went to hunt for the device Shaw requested. A few minutes later, he handed over what she needed.

"Thanks." With deft hands, Shaw bound Joss' wrist firmly. "That should do it." Plucking two small packets from the medicine section of the kit, Shaw handed them over. "It's just Naprosyn. Sorry."

"It's something." Joss held on to the pills as though they were gold.

"Take those and go get some sleep. And keep that wrist elevated. Doctor's orders." Shaw gave what she hoped was a comforting smile. Joss stood up on shaky legs. "You should eat something before you take those."

Joss felt her stomach roil and the bile rise. "No," she shook her head. "No food." The sandwich she had had earlier threatened to make a late appearance, and it was taking everything she had to keep it down. But she would be damned if she lost her lunch in front of Quinn's daughter. She took a couple of calming breaths. The nausea seemed to pass.

"Take care of her," Reese nodded toward Ray, who was sitting in the corner, pale and stricken. "I'll see to Joss." Taking the detective's arm, he led her thru to the living room, up the steep staircase, to the bedroom.

Shaw patted the chair that had just been vacated. "Sit down," she said.

Hesitantly, Ray did as she was told. With all that had transpired in the past few days, she wasn't sure what to expect from the woman with the stoic expression. She tried to smile, but in doing so, a sharp, excruciating pain pierced her brain. Gagging, she covered her mouth and turned her head.

Fast as lightning, Shaw grabbed the small bowl she was using to hold the used gauze, and held it under Ray's face until she was finished.

"Here," Shaw handed a wet wipe to the young woman. "Feel better?"

"I-I think so," Ray said, but she wasn't positive. If it wasn't bad enough people wanted to kill her, she had just embarrassed herself. She so wanted to die. Or would it be too much to ask for the floor to open up and swallow her?

"We'll keep that here," Shaw indicated toward the bowl, "in case we need it again. I'm going to check on this," she pressed against the large bruise on Ray's cheek. "Does that hurt?"

In response, Ray turned green and gagged. Barely making it in time, Shaw held the bowl steady. She was careful to avert her eyes.

"It's going to be a long night," Shaw muttered under her breath.


	22. Chapter 22

_Sorry for the long wait between chapters. it's been a busy last couple of weeks, and to top it off, my man Fusco decided he had a story to tell. I can never say no to Fusco. That said, I managed to cram three scenes into this chapter...and yes, they will all intertwine. Enjoy._

_This season one lucky person will have their own CaReese Christmas story to call their own. All you have to do is PM me with your three prompts and a title/song so you can be entered for the chance to have your name drawn. Good luck!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Taylor felt lousy. And to top it off, his world was spinning around. He could have sworn he'd only had two drinks, but that didn't explain why there was a weird humming in his ears.

"Hey, sexy," a girl purred and sidled up next to him. "Want to go upstairs?"

"No." Taylor tried to push her hands away. Something was wrong with his stomach. He had to get out of the house.

The girl grabbed his hand. "Come on. Let's go upstairs."

"I…I have to leave. I don't feel good." The music was too loud and the girl's perfume was only making matters worse. He tried to pull back, but her hold was stronger.

"I can make you feel better." The girl curled her fingers in Taylor's hair. "Come on." She pulled his head down and kissed him open mouth in the middle of the room. Her tongue tangled with his as people cheered and clapped. Shouts of "Way to go, Taylor" made it to Taylor's ears. Nauseous, he pulled away.

Taylor's stomach roiled. He was going to be sick. "Let me go," he groaned and pushed the girl away. He stumbled blindly toward the door as he pushed his way thru the crowd. He could hear the laughter behind him, but he didn't care.

Making his way to the porch, he leaned over the railing and tried to catch his breath. He wanted to go home. He wanted his mom. He wanted…something he couldn't put his finger on.

The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts.

"Hello?" he groaned.

"Taylor?" Paul demanded. "Where are you?"

"Dad? I need you."

"Text me your address, son. I'll be there in ten minutes," Paul promised.  
****

Joss flushed the toilet and leaned her head against the wall. Her knees hurt from the cold, hard tile, but she didn't care. Her heart hurt worse. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she tried to stifle a sob. But it came any way.

_How had her life come to this moment?_ She thought to herself. All she ever wanted to do was protect people and make life better for everyone. Or at least try. Now even that was no longer a possibility. Everything she held dear was in jeopardy, and this time she might really die.

The door opened slowly.

"Joss?" Reese asked as he poked his head around the corner.

"Go away," Joss whispered. She wiped a shaky hand across her eyes.

Reese walked inside the large room. "What are you doing on the floor?" There was concern in his voice.

"John, please, go away," she begged. "Leave me alone."

Reese took a wash cloth out of the cabinet and wetted it down. Then he knelt down in front of her. "I can't do that." Gently he wiped the blood and tears from her face.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"No," she replied honestly.

He took her hands in his and held them. "Tell me what's wrong."

The muscle in Joss's cheek twitched sharply as she turned her head. One tear fell to race down her cheek. Reese gently brushed it away.

"Talk to me, Joss. Tell me what's wrong."

"What happened?" she asked rhetorically. "I thought this was behind us when we took down HR. And now…" her voice cracked on a sob. "I don't want to die."

"You're not going to die," he stated firmly.

"You don't know that. How many times can we cheat fate?" she bit out angrily.

"This isn't fate, Joss," Reese gently corrected. "This is a bunch of evil and greedy men wanting revenge. We just have the misfortune of being stuck in the middle. Again."

"That gives me no comfort, John." Her eyes were so sad. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her until the storm past, but he didn't dare cross the line. She was too vulnerable and emotions were too raw at the moment.

"I don't know what to say, Joss." He was at a loss as to what to do or say to make her feel better. Their lives _were_ on the line, but he was no motivational speaker. All of his life he had been a follower or a defender. This…he was doing the best he could to keep them all alive.

"What if they find us?" Fear crept into her tone.

"They won't, Joss. No one knows about this place but Harold. And even he doesn't know we're here."

Joss closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath. The bile was rising in her stomach again, and she would be damned if she got sick in front of John.

"But you're going to need to call Taylor," Reese advised.

Joss shook her head. "He's not talking to me."

"Then you need to call Paul and tell him that you are alright." Reese stroked her cheek softly. "They are going to find the car when you don't show up to the rendezvous point, and an APB is going to be issued. Taylor and your mother are going to be notified. You don't want them to worry, do you?"

"No," she said. "I'll call them."

"Good. Then I want you to come to bed."

Joss looked him straight in the eye. "I'm not going to sleep with you, John."

Reese tried to not appear wounded. "I appreciate that, Joss. And I would never pressure you to do anything you don't want to. You need rest."

Chastened, Joss looked down at the floor. "Yeah."

"I'll sleep in the chair if it makes you feel better," he offered. Standing up, he reached out his hand to her. "Let's get you rested so you can heal."

Joss took his hand. "Okay. Promise me that you won't carry me any more."

He smiled. "I'll try." He pulled Joss to her feet.

"Thank you, John."

Reese cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes. "Don't mention it, Joss." Guiding her out of the bathroom, he turned off the light and closed the door.  
*****

"Where is she?" the man behind the desk demanded.

"She got away," Bogle admitted.

"I know that," the man replied distinctly. "How?"

"She had help. That man in the suit showed up with his partner and rescued her and that detective."

"How?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Bogle retorted angrily. "I sure as hell didn't advertise what we were doing."

"Someone found out." The man leaned back in the chair. "I heard that you caused the car to crash."

"We were trying to stop them."

"They could have been killed. That isn't what I'm paying you to do."

"You said to get Quinn's daughter by any means possible," Bogle argued. He could feel himself start to sweat, but he was going to maintain his stance. He did nothing wrong.

"I didn't say to kill them. We need Quinn's daughter alive if we are going to use her as leverage to get that bastard father of hers to come out of the shadows."

"It was an accident. Besides, what would it have mattered if that bitch cop had died? She's been a pain in our ass since day one."

No sooner were the words out of Bogle's mouth that the sound of gunfire filled the small room. He felt a bullet whizzed by his head, and ducked quickly. Standing on shaky legs, he looked at his two partners. Ashen faced, they looked away from Bogle.

"If you ever call Detective Carter a bitch again," the man growled in a tone so low and deadly, it was possible he could do more damage than a bullet, "I promise the next time I shoot, I won't miss. Is that understood?"

Bogle nodded. "Yes."

"Now, I want you to go find Quinn's daughter. And if anything happens to Detective Carter…" He laid the gun on the desk.

The three men backed out of the room slowly, their eyes never left the man behind the desk. Once outside and the door was closed, then they could breathe.

"Where do we start to find her?"

"I think I might know." Bogle took his phone out and dialed. "I need to make a phone call." Leaving the two men, he walked outside to the porch. "Womack? This is Bogle. This whole thing just went sideways; tell me you got news on Quinn and his daughter."


	23. Chapter 23

_Sorry for the long wait between chapters. I had hoped to post TWO chapters today, but alas, the fog of exhaustion is trying to claim me. With any hope I will have the next one up tomorrow. That said, I know that all of you are going to be throwing rocks by the end of the first half of the chapter, but don't worry, comeuppance is right around the corner._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Taylor sat on the curb with his head in his hands. Behind him the party carried on, but all he could think about was how he was going to explain this to his dad. But what was there to explain, he reasoned to himself, wasn't the whole thing genetic? Plus, if he had to be honest, his mom made him do it. He could blame her for it all.

Engrossed in playing the blame game, he didn't hear the SUV pull up beside him.

"Taylor," Paul called out, "get in the car."

Taylor pushed himself up and tried to take a step forward, but the world was spinning around. Losing his balance, he fell against the SUV. For a moment he waited to see if his dad would come to help him.

"Hurry up, son. I don't have all night," Paul said, his voice devoid of any compassion.

Pushing himself back, Taylor reached for the door handle. On the second attempt he managed to open the door and get inside. Relieved, he leaned back against the soft seat and closed his eyes.

"Close the door," Paul ordered. Taylor turned his head slightly and opened one eyes. "You heard me."

Grunting, Taylor did as he was told. He tried to settle back when Paul's voice interrupted his thoughts – again.

"Seat belt."

"Jeez, Dad," Taylor grumbled in exasperation and yanked the device down. "What's next, pump your gas? Change your oil?"

"Check the attitude, son," Paul cautioned. He tried to keep his voice even, but the drunk teenager was slowly pushing his buttons. Hearing the click, he put the vehicle in drive and pressed the gas. As the scenery passed by, so did the minutes – slowly and painfully.

"I'm disappointed in you, Taylor," Paul's voice cut through the heavy atmosphere inside the SUV. "You told me that you were going to study with a friend."

"Change of plan." The young man's penitent attitude was slowly replaced with insolence and attitude.

Not impressed by Taylor's tone, Paul pushed back. "Did this change of plan involve you getting drunk at some illegal underage keg party?"

"Can we talk about this later, please?" Taylor whined. He wasn't sure, but he knew someone had slipped something in his drink. He entertained the thought of going back and confronting the person, but his head started spinning. Gulping hard, he took a steadying breath.

"Actually, I want to talk about it right now. You called me up to pick you up from a party you didn't tell me about, so I think I have the right to ask any question I want," Paul returned. He tried to keep his anger in check, but with each passing mile it was becoming impossible.

"Dad..." Taylor pleaded. "This isn't the time. Later."

"I expected better from you, son."

"This isn't my fault," Taylor replied.

Paul raised his eyebrow. "Oh? I assume you're going to tell me that you were kidnapped and taken to the party against your will?"

"You wouldn't understand." Taylor felt his anger begin to rise again as his brain replayed the scene of his mom wrapped around the stranger in the kitchen doing disgusting things no parent should be doing. Especially moms – his mom of all people!

"Try me," Paul encouraged. Something had been weighing on his son's mind recently, and this could be the only time to get him to open up.

"It's her fault," Taylor bit out.

"Her?" Paul turned his head to look at Taylor. "Her, who?"

"You know who," Taylor nearly spat. "The same person who betrayed you. She betrayed me, too."

"Are you talking about your mother?" Paul asked incredulously. He knew his ears had to be hearing things. "What does she have to do with this?"

"She's a bitch." The words were out before Taylor realized what he had said.

Almost immediately Paul hit the brakes and stopped the car in the middle of the street. Thrown forward, Paul at least had the luxury of holding on to the steering wheel. Taylor, unprepared for the sudden reaction, lurched forward—hard. A second later he was pulled back by the restraint.

"What did you say?" Paul thundered, his voice rocking the inside of the SUV almost as hard as the sudden stop. "What did you call your mother?"

Stricken by shock and fear, Taylor's eyes flew to his dad's. Realizing that he had messed up, he tried to find the right words to take back what he said. He opened his mouth and closed it. His stomach roiled. He swallowed twice, then gagged. Then, without warning, he threw up.  
*******

Shaw closed the screen door quietly behind her. Everything had finally calmed down and she just wanted the peace and quiet. The light of the moon cast everything in an eerie glow, but it was the soft noise that caused her senses to go on high alert.

Spinning around, she caught the silhouette standing alone in the corner on the porch.

"How's Joss?" she asked quietly.

"Asleep. How about Quinn's daughter?" Reese returned. His eyes were trained on the darkened path for anything out of sorts. Their get away had been perfect – almost too perfect, he thought to himself. He tried to push down the sense of dread that filled his stomach.

"She'll live, but she needs to get to a hospital. I don't think her cheekbone is broken, but I don't know for sure. And I'm worried about the laceration on Joss's forehead. Her wrist may need to be operated on if it isn't set soon."

"We can't leave right now."

"We're going to have to, Reese. Have you called Harold?" she wondered.

"In the morning. Chances are he'll send Fusco out to find us, and if I know HR, they are keeping tabs on the detective. If he makes one move out of character, they'll jump on him. We can't risk it. When they find us, we need to take care of it."

"We'll that's a good theory on paper. And it would work for Rambo, but this life and death. Between our weapons and Joss's piece, we have sixty rounds. If they come prepared, we're screwed."

Reese looked at his partner. "Are you always so positive when delivering life or death news?" he asked sardonically.

"Are you always so detached when a threat is around the corner?" she countered.

"We can leave in the morning after I call Finch," Reese ceded finally.

"They'll be looking for us at all the surrounding hospitals," Shaw pointed out matter of factly.

"You don't say. I'm sure that when they find the wreckage and the bodies of the men they sent to kill Joss, they'll be flagging every possible place we could go to within a hundred mile radius."

"Do you think they meant to kill Joss?" Shaw could believe almost anything but that the detective's life was again in jeopardy.

"Collateral damage comes to mind. Their mission is to get Quinn's daughter and use her to draw him out," Reese said without feeling. "Anyone in the driver's seat would have been in the way and eliminated." Or at least that is what he told himself.

"I thought we ferreted everyone out when Quinn was taken down?"

"A few managed to slip thru the cracks. And I think I know who it was," Reese replied bitterly. Blackmail hadn't been enough to save Joss a second time.

"Care to share?"

"When the time is right," Reese said letting her know the subject was closed.

Shaw scanned the area and then her watch. "So, who takes the first watch?"

"Where is Quinn's daughter?"

"In the bedroom next to yours. I thought I'd take the sofa."

"There is another room," he told her.

"We are going to need an obstacle should they find us. And I like being closer to the action."

"Shaw..."

"Go be with Joss, Reese. She needs you right now. I have two guns down here." She pulled a clip from her jacket pocket and handed it to Reese. "Take this just in case."

Reese eyed the clip. "You won't need it?"

"If they get thru me, an extra clip won't matter," she answered logically. "Besides, one of us will have to survive to finally take that bastard down."

Reese reluctantly took the clip. "Good night, Shaw." He turned on his heel and started to walk away.

"Don't forget to wake Joss up every two hours. Doctor's orders."

Reese smiled and closed the door behind him.

Shaw waited for Reese's footsteps to fade before she walked the length of the porch and back. Her brain took in every little thing to remember what was out of place at a later time. Satisfied, she went back into the house and secured the door.

In the darkness she took her perch on the couch cushion located closest to the door and settle in for a long night.

But she didn't sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

_Alright, as promised, here is the next chapter. I know a lot of you are ticked off that Taylor crossed the line, but his reaction is normal. I come from a long line of alcoholics and spent 8 years in the Navy, and I have seen my share of drunks. Taylor falls into the category of whiney/mean (the worst kind of drunk). But don't worry, Paul is going to nip that in the bud ASAP! As for Reese and Joss...they're still working on it._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"Finch?" Reese asked. He stepped out on to the porch of the cabin. The sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon, bathing the sky in majestic colours no artist could ever capture on canvas. It struck Reese on some subconscious level, but that wasn't what was on his mind.

"Mr. Reese," Finch answered almost breathless in relief to hear the voice of his friend again. "I've been trying to contact you all night. What happened?"

"They found her, Finch."

"How?"

"I don't know." The sound of a branch cracking made Reese spin around. A second later a rabbit hopped out into the open. Reese relaxed – a little.

"How is she?"

"They ran her off the road in an ambush attempt to grab Quinn's daughter."

"Tell me she's alright." Finch's fingers raced over the keyboard trying to pull up any information that might aid his mutual friends.

"It could have been worse, but they are hurt. Joss took the brunt of the crash... They are going to need a hospital. Soon."

"Where are you?"

"Don Moretti's cabin. I figured it was the safest place to hide since HR is gone and not many who knew about it are gone," Reese reasoned.

Finch waited while the computer processed the information he had entered. "There is a hospital thirty miles away; I'm sending you the coordinates."

The phone beeped. Reese looked down at the GPS Finch had sent.

"Thanks, but I don't think we can get out of here right now. Once they find the SUV, they are going to be able to pinpoint our direction." Reese touched his weapon. "It's just a matter of time."

"We'll get you out of there. I promise. What about Quinn's daughter?"

"She's safe. Once she wakes up, I'll question her about Alonzo."

"No need. It appears the former HR head managed to elude the Feds and found his way back home."

Reese paused. His look was one of shock. "Alonzo Quinn is back in New York?" he asked in disbelief. A moment later the disbelief was replaced by white hot anger. "When?"

"He arrived at La Guardia yesterday under a false name. The Machine flagged his alias."

"I thought he was supposed to be in WitSec." Reese could feel himself beginning to lose what little control he prided himself as having, but the mention of Alonzo Quinn being back in town was not helping.

"Apparently he ran away to come out here and save his daughter. Detective Fusco met him at the airport."

"Was he talking?"

"Not about anything of importance."

"We need to find out what he knows about the guys coming after him and Carter."

Finch was surprised by the remark. "Are you positive they are coming after her?"

"The ambush was personal. They would have killed her to get Quinn's daughter if Shaw and I hadn't shown up. You need to get him to talk."

"You need to get the women to the hospital."

Now that the danger was practically at their door, Reese was changing his mind. "We can't risk it, Finch. Staying where we are is the safest choice we have right now," Reese kept his voice low. "You and Fusco need to find out what is going on and what Quinn's role in all of this is so we can bring it to an end."

"I understand, Mr. Reese."

"I will call you later." Reese turned off the phone.

Closing his eyes, he tried to keep his anger in check. But nothing was working. The urge to throttle everyone involved was stronger and more intense than anything he had ever experienced. Not even his stand down with Peter Arndt had created this much rage. He wanted to hurt something. He wanted to break it and smash it – destroy it. He balled his fists and closed his eyes.

"Breakfast is ready," Shaw said.

Reese forced a smile. "What did you make?" There hadn't been much in the pantry and cupboards, so the idea of Shaw making a meal didn't exactly appeal to his taste buds.

"Does it matter? You were out here and I was hungry." She walked over to the porch railing and looked out in to the forest. "It's quiet," she observed without much feeling in the statement.

"Not for long."

"What did Finch say?"

"Quinn is back in town." Reese didn't expect Shaw to reply. "Fusco picked him up at the airport."

"Does anyone else know that he is back?"

"Not that Finch is aware of, but knowing the man's track record of attracting trouble..." Reese had to remember to take a deep breath and relax. "It's not going to be too long before they realize he's gone and narrow down the list of cities he may have escaped to."

"Are you going to tell Joss?" Shaw wondered in her no nonsense way to getting to the point quickly.

"I'm going to have to." He didn't want to, but he vowed never to lie to the woman he loved more than life.

"When?"

"After she wakes up. She had a rough night." He didn't have to wake Joss up every couple of hours since she tossed and turned because of nightmares. He still remembered her holding on to him tighter than a vice after a nightmare that left her sobbing in his arms.

"I know," Shaw replied but didn't elaborate. "Ray is sleeping soundly."

Reese raised his eyebrow. "Ray?"

"I got tired of calling her 'Quinn's daughter'; the poor girl deserves better that being associated to that monster." Shaw felt a smile tugged at her lips. "'Ray' cuts thru the bullshit."

"Smart move." Though he didn't entirely agree with her reasoning. He did not want to look at Quinn's offspring as a real life person – that meant that he could get personally involved. _But you are personally involved,_ the little voice in the back of his head reminded.

"How much longer can we stay out here before they find us?" Shaw wondered.

"Another day. Two at the most."

"If Quinn is here, it's possible he may know about this place."

"Yes." Reese agreed.

"Do you think any of the HR mongrels know about this place?"

"Elias kept his friends close and his enemies closer, but I doubt that he would have told many people about his father's hideaway."

Shaw took a deep breath of the crisp, clean, fresh air. "I hate to leave you, but I need to eat." She shot Reese a look out of the corner of her eye. "You need to eat, too. And then you need to have that talk with Joss."

Reese kept his eyes straight ahead and didn't reply.  
*******

Taylor heard the noise and tried to put his finger on it. It started out small and grew louder with each second. Turning his head, he tried to hide under the pillow, but a bright light blinded him – even with his eyes closed.

"Taylor."

_Who was saying his name?_

"Taylor."

"Go 'way," he mumbled despite his tongue being twice it's size. "I sleepin'." He pulled the pillow over his face. God, his head hurt. If only that stupid pounding would stop.

"Taylor! Wake up!"

Taylor groaned. Was his dad insane? Didn't he know it was the weekend? Taylor wondered. "Lemmee sleep."

"Get up out of the bed. Now," Paul ordered in his best Sergeant's voice. "You have five seconds or I drag you out myself. Five. Four. Three. Two..."

"Okay, okay." Taylor pushed the covers aside. "What's the big deal?"

"It's time to get up."

"It's Saturday, Dad."

"It's Wednesday, Son," Paul corrected. "Now, stand up."

Swallowing hard, Taylor set his feet on the floor. A second later, he cursed out loud and sat back down on the bed. "What the hell is that?" He looked down at the hardwood floor at the puddle beside his bed.

"First of all, Taylor," Paul warned, "you will not cuss in my house. Is that understood?"

His eyes wide with fear, Taylor nodded and clumsily tried to pull his soiled sock off.

"Secondly, that is because you lied to me."

"You peed on the floor because I lied to you?" Taylor tried to fathom the reasoning behind his father's actions.

"No. _You_ peed on the floor," Paul corrected the misunderstanding.

"I..." Taylor tried to deny the statement. With his head in his hands he tried to remember the night before. He was at the party and had a few drinks, then the girl flirted with him and he called his dad. Everything after that was fuzzy, but he would know if he did something disgusting, wouldn't he?

"That was your last drunken act before you passed out on the floor. I put your sorry butt in bed. But now it's time to get up. You have a lot of work to do before I take you to school."

"School?" Taylor croaked. "I can't go to school, Dad. Not like this." His head was ready to explode, his mouth tasted as though he had rinsed in the toiled bowl, and his stomach roiled violently. He _couldn't_ go to school. Not today. Not ever.

"Too bad. You can go brush your teeth first, but I would suggest taking this pail and scrub brush and turn to."

Taylor stood up. With shaky hands he took the pail. He glanced down at the floor and shuddered.

"What did I do last night?" He was almost too afraid to ask.

"After you threw up in my car? You managed to lose everything you ate in the last twenty-four hours and trailed it from the car to your room."

Taylor closed his eyes. "Oh, God."

"It's a little too late to ask for His help. Now, I suggest you start cleaning. If you hurry, you'll make it for your second period class."

"I...I..."

Paul looked at the frightened kid in the teenager's body and felt his heart constrict. _Don't give in,_ he warned himself.

"You want to say something?" Paul asked rhetorically.

Taylor considered his response. "N-n-no sir."

"Get a move on it. Breakfast will be ready shortly." Paul turned and walked out of the room. "And when you are done, we need to talk," he threw over his shoulder.

Taylor looked at the mess in the room and then at the pail in his hand. He closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears from falling. Things were bad enough without turning into a baby.

"I'm so screwed," he finalized.


	25. Chapter 25

_Here is another chapter. Hope you like it. I tried to capture the essence of Finch and the pure evilness of Quinn as I tried to write down the possible conversation they would have. I hope it worked._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Alonzo Quinn pulled on the metal gate guarding his prison cell. It wasn't right that he should be locked up like an animal or a common criminal when he he had done nothing wrong. He knew the law and what he was entitled to, and this was not it!

"Hello?! I want out of here!" he shouted, his voice bounced off the empty walls of the library. Desperate, he pulled harder on the gate. "Did you hear me? I want out of here!"

"I heard you, Mr. Quinn," Finch replied in his usual monotone. The sound of his uneven footsteps came down the hall, followed by the click clack of Bear's nails on the tile.

"I want out of here. You can't hold me against my will. I have rights."

Finch placed the tray on the cart. "The only right you have is to a trial by a jury of your peers." He pulled the key chain out of his tailored slacks pocket and inserted it into the lock. "It's not too late, though, for justice to be served."

He turned his head and spoke to Bear. Instantly the canine was in guard mode. Baring his teeth menacingly, he eyed the prisoner with caution. Quinn took three steps back as Finch opened the gate and Bear entered first.

Finch placed the tray on the table. "Here is your breakfast. I wasn't sure what your dietary needs are, but I think you'll enjoy it."

"I don't want to eat," Quinn shot back defiantly. "I want out."

Finch narrowed his eyes. "Unfortunately, we can't always get what we want."

"At least tell me where my daughter is," Quinn begged, his tone turned from angry to pleading. For a moment Finch was moved by the depth of feeling Quinn had for his daughter. Then he remembered the night he watched as his friends were gunned down in cold blood on the street like dogs. And he hardened his heart.

"I don't know." Finch steeled himself as he met Quinn's eyes in a battle of wills.

"You do."

"Even if I did know," Finch conceded without any warmth in his words, "there is no way that I would tell you."

"Can you at least tell me if she's safe?"

"No." Finch turned around and walked out of the room. With a quick twist of his wrist he secured the gate's lock.

"I'm her father; I have a right to know if she's alright."

"Your daughter is being protected by my friends – the same friends you decided needed to die because they were getting in the way of your criminal ways. And now, the same people you were in bed with feel the same way."

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently you made enemies all over the city," Finch replied dryly. "And they decided that if they couldn't get you and the money you stole from them, they would take it out on your daughter."

"Did they-?" He didn't want to entertain the thought of the worst case scenario.

"What do you care?"

"Dammit! I am her father! She's my daughter!" Alonzo Quinn was an expert at keeping his temper under control, but his captor was slowly pushing each button with such finesse that it was almost impossible to hold on to his emotions.

"No. She's a pawn in this pathetic game you put into play a long time ago."

"That's not fair. You have _no_ idea what I feel!"

"What's not fair is the way everyone who has been associated with you has met with a grisly end. As for where she is, even if it were a matter of life or death, I wouldn't tell you. It would risk her life and everyone involved."

"That's more than enough reason to let me out," Quinn stated logically. "I can find her."

"And lead the men who want you dead to her? That would go against every instinct I have."

"Are you a parent?" Quinn demanded.

"What exactly is your point, Mr. Quinn?"

"Do you have children?" At Finch's pause, Quinn jumped on it. "I am going to say that you don't. So you can't understand what it's like to be forced to sit back and be helpless as your flesh and blood is used as a pawn against you." Quinn looked down at the floor and tried to gather his emotions. When he spoke again, his voice quavered.

"You'll never understand the pain of having your heart ripped out as you stand by helpless knowing you could have helped them but were stopped."

Finch's eyes narrowed dangerously and he took a step forward. Even Bear seemed to sense the change in his master's demeanor. He moved closer to Finch.

"You are correct, Mr. Quinn," Finch replied, his voice lower than usual but not any less meaningful, "I don't have any children, but that doesn't mean that I don't know how to love and appreciate the people who have been put in my life. I have loved and lost and stood on the sidelines helpless in preventing bad things from happening, so there I feel your anguish. But as for the love a parent feels for a child...?" Finch took a moment to choose his words carefully.

"The man who you chose to assassinate is the closest I will ever come to having a son. Maybe we don't share the same blood or flesh, but that doesn't make what I feel for him any less." Finch unconsciously balled his hands into fists. "And Detective Carter, too. You don't have to create life to appreciate it, but considering your track record, Mr. Quinn, I believe you have no concept of what love really is. You assassinated your godson, you assassinated Detective Szymanski in cold blood, and you ordered the hit on two people who wanted nothing more than to end corruption in the city they swore an oath to protect.

"You stand there with crocodile tears in your eyes and tell me how much you love your daughter and that she means the world to you." Finch took another step so he was eye to eye with his nemesis. "You are nothing but a liar and a killer in a cheap, polyester suit who spouts off meaningless platitudes to ease his conscience. But I wonder, do you have a conscience? After all you did to innocent people and this city – the city you claimed to love, do you have the ability to feel any remorse?"

"How dare you question my devotion and loyalty," Quinn spat back in response. "I called the shots – that is true, but I did it because I cared. From what I see, you are just as much of a puppet master. You stand there in your expensive suit and lecture me? The things I did _protected_ this city. You have some vigilante zealot working as your conscience to right wrongs and save people; you pay him to do your dirty work, while at the same time employing a holier than thou Homicide detective and an alcoholic sewer rat. So as far as I can see, there isn't much difference between you and me," he declared with sardonic satisfaction.

"Maybe, Mr. Quinn, but I'm willing to die for the people I love. Are you?" Finch kept his eyes locked with Quinn's.

"Goddamn it!" Growling with anger, Quinn grabbed the food cart and threw it as hard as he could against the wall. The platter of food exploded and landed to coat the floor, desk, and every available surface. The metal cart broke in half and fell to the floor with a sharp thud. Shaking with anger, he turned to face Finch.

Finch eyed the destruction with a stoic expression. Distressed by the outburst, Bear pushed himself against Finch's leg and whimpered.

"Thank you for proving my point, Mr. Quinn," Finch remarked dryly. "I'll bring you a pail and cleaning rags for you to clean this up." With that, Finch turned on his heel and limped away. The canine stayed close beside him.

"Goddamn it!" Quinn swore again under his breath. But this time there was no anger in his tone.  
*****

"Any news on our mutual friends?" Fusco asked into the phone. He tried to keep his voice low he was aware of the ears that could overhearing his conversation.

"I will text it to you. Be assured that Mr. Reese found them in time."

"So, they're okay?" His heart beat painfully at the thought of Joss being hurt again by the thugs they swore to take down. Was it ever going to end?

"I am positive that word will be getting to the precinct that Detective Carter failed to show up to the safe-house."

"Which means they will be knocking on her mother's door," Fusco finished the thought. "That woman has been thru enough." He looked at his watch. "I'm sure that I can get over there and assure her that everything is alright, but I need to know the truth: Is Joss alright?"

"She'll live," Finch confirmed.

"How is the prisoner?"

"Not happy."

"Considering how he escaped justice the first time, I'm not surprised that he wants nothing to do with being incarcerated."

"He'll be let out soon enough."

"We need to find out who is putting the hit on Carter and Quinn's daughter."

"Any ideas?"

Fusco looked around the bullpen and caught Womack looking intently at him. The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood straight up. His gut started doing flip-flops.

"Yeah," he breathed. "One or two. But I can't tell you here."

"I understand."

"I'll go talk with Mrs. Kelly, then I'll meet up with you."

"I look forward to it, Detective."

Fusco closed his phone and shoved it in his coat pocket. He shot a defiant look toward the Captain who crooked his finger and motioned for Fusco to come to his office.

With heavy feet, Fusco did as he was directed.

"You wanted to talk to me, Captain?"

"Who were you talking to?"

"With all due respect, none of your business."

"I wasn't asking who you were talking to," Womack threw back, "I was ordering you to tell me."

"And I will tell you again that it's none of your business, sir."

"You have developed a smart mouth since you and your partner took down HR," Womack pointed out.

"We didn't take down all of HR, but we're working on it." Fusco's tone was borderline cheeky.

"I can suspend you for insubordination," Womack threatened darkly.

"You could," Fusco agreed with a nod, "and it wouldn't be my first suspension. In fact, I would love for you to do it so I can go in front of the IAB and tell them all about how you have your fingers in the newest corruption scandal."

"Are you threatening me, Detective?" Doubt followed by fear flashed momentarily in the captain's eyes.

Smug with defiance, Fusco crossed his arms over his chest. "If it's true, it's not a threat. But for the record, I don't make threats – unlike you – I make promises."

"I will have your badge."

"And I will make sure that someone more worthy has your office. Call off the dogs."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Womack replied vaguely.

"The dogs that chased after Carter. Call them off. Or else."

"Is that a promise?" Womack sneered.

"No," Fusco replied, "that is a threat."

"You think you're so smart because you escaped the hammer that came down on your HR buddies. You think that you are the hero in all of this because you arrested Simmons." Womack stepped up until he was practically nose to nose with the man he couldn't give two shits about. "You are nothing but a sewer rat, Fusco. A snake crawling on his belly, loyal to no one and striking out to save his own skin."

Fusco felt the white hot heat of anger rush thru him. It was all he could do not to reach for his service weapon and put the precinct out of Womack's misery. He wouldn't be held accountable for doing the right thing, he reasoned. In fact, he might even get a promotion.

_But what about Lee?_

The fight went out of Fusco. His son deserved a better father, and wasn't that what he was striving to become? He couldn't set two standards. He had to be the better man.

"If anything happens to my friends, I will see you in hell," Fusco declared.

"You don't have it in you."

"Ask Simmons if that is true. Now, if you don't mind, I have criminals to get off the street." Fusco turned on his heel and walked out of the office. Turning the corner, he opened his phone and pressed the app in the lower right hand corner. He held his breath as the circle spun around.

PAIRING SUCCESSFUL!

Fusco smiled. "Now I got you, you son of a bitch," he said happily under his breath. He was pretty sure Finch would be able to jack into Womack's line too and retrieve important information. They needed to take the rest of HR down before anyone else got killed. But first he had to go warn Joss's mother before the bad guys got to her.


	26. Chapter 26

_Here is the much anticipated update. And yes, I think it was worth the wait. Of course it's Fusco centric, but that's not a bad thing, right? I will take any opportunity to write when my man Fusco wants to talk. Enjoy!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Lionel knocked on the door and waited patiently in the cold. Rubbing his hands together, he blew on them – despite the heavy gloves – and looked over his shoulder for any evidence that he had been followed. The coast was clear – but that didn't ease the niggling in the back of his mind. He would never put anything past the HR mongrels wanting revenge. And if his gut was right, they were aiming for Joss's mother.

As he went to knock again, he heard the locks turn before the door was opened.

"Yes?" Mila Kelly asked as her face appeared around the corner of the heavy oak door.

"Mrs. Kelly?"

Mila opened the door wider. "Hello, Detective Fusco," she greeted happily. "What brings you here?"

"Could I come in?" Lionel asked.

"Sure." Mila stepped aside to let him in. She closed the door and locked it before asking, "Would you like a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot."

Lionel pulled off his gloves. "Thank you." He followed the older woman to the modestly decorated kitchen. He sniffed appreciatively.

"Sit," Mila invited and pulled down the cups and saucers. "Would you like a sweet roll? Made them myself this morning."

"Sure." Lionel removed his coat and hung it on the back of the chair before sitting down. A minute later the coffee and snack were placed in front of him. Taking the fork, he cut off a piece of the pastry and brought it to his mouth. "Mmm. Delicious," he complimented.

"Thank you." Mila added the sugar and cream to her coffee. It was obvious that they were dancing around the elephant in the room, but neither was ready to approach it.

"How's your hand?" she wondered. Her eyes glanced down quickly before turning her attention back to stirring her coffee.

Lionel flexed his fingers. "Better. Doctor says another month of physical therapy and I should be back up to par." He took a bigger bite and chewed slowly.

"Is everything okay?" Mila finally gathered the courage to ask the question on her mind.

"No," Lionel replied honestly. "That's why I'm here."

"Is it Joss? Is she okay?" Fear filled Mila's eyes as she fought to suppress the terror filling her body.

Finishing the pastry, Lionel set his fork down. "Joss is fine...for the moment," he assured her. "Has she contacted you?"

Flummoxed, Mila shook her head. "No. Why?"

Lionel took a deep breath. There was no easy way to tell her the things that were happening, but she had to know.

"Alonzo Quinn has escaped."

Mila's hands shook at the news. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup and landed on the table. "What?" Her brain couldn't comprehend what she was hearing. Her daughter's nemesis – the one who ordered her death – was free and roaming around America without anyone looking? Or caring? It wasn't possible.

Setting the cup down, Mila tried to gather herself. "Oh, look what I did."

"Stay there. I'll get a towel." Lionel was on his feet before Mila could argue. Grabbing a paper towel, he wiped the liquid from the table, then squatted down to wipe up the puddle on the linoleum.

"Detective," Mila's voice cracked, "how did this happen?"

"I don't know," Lionel replied honestly.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know." It was the truth – sort of. But the less she knew, the less likely HR would try to pry the information from her if they believe for a second that she might be withholding information.

"Why? Why wasn't someone watching him? Why wasn't he in prison?" she asked rhetorically. But there weren't any answers – at least none that would bring any comfort. Or make any sense, for that matter.

Lionel laid his hand on her shoulder and looked deep into Mila's eyes. "We're going to take care of it. Trust me."

Mila covered Lionel's hand with hers. "I do. But Joss..."

"She's alright. I have a friend watching her."

"Where is she, Detective?" Mila pleaded hoarsely. "Please tell me."

"I can't. It's best that the less you know, the better it is for everyone involved."

"She's hurt. I can tell by the look on your face. They hurt my baby."

"Joss is – Joss is safe," Lionel reassured, but his tone didn't match his words.

"I can't bear if anything happens to her." Mila blindly reached for the serviette and pressed it to the corner of her eye.

"My friends and I are not going to let anything happen," Lionel stated firmly. "I will lay my life down for her before I let those bastards hurt her again." His blue eyes met Mila's brown ones.

"Y-y-you promise?"

"You have my word." Lionel stood up. "But I need something from you."

"A-anything."

"If anyone comes looking for Joss, you can't tell them what I told you. If she is going to remain safe, no one can know that she is alive."

Mila shook her head. "What? I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand. Just do as I say."

"Who are they?"

"Bad guys. Really bad guys."

Mila closed her eyes and nodded reluctantly. "O-okay." She held fast and tight to Lionel's hand. "Please watch out for her."

"I will."

"And watch out for yourself."

Lionel smiled. "I'll do my best."

"Would you like another cup of coffee?"

Lionel drained the cup. "No, thanks. I have to go. Do you know where Taylor is?" He slipped on his coat.

"At his dad's place." Mila stood up. "I'll get you his address." She stood up and hurried to the living room. Lionel followed. "Here." She handed over the piece of paper containing the information.

"Thanks." The paper was tucked safely in Lionel's breast pocket.

"Should I call Paul?"

"No. I'll tell him myself."

"I understand."

"I should be going."

Mila led the way to the front door. Opening it, she stepped aside. "Thank you for the visit."

"Thank you for the coffee," Lionel returned with a smile. He started to turn when Mila's voice stopped him.

"Detective?" she asked. "Tell Joss to call me. Please?"

"I'll tell her." With purpose, Lionel hurried down the steps of the brownstone to his car.  
*******

Tucked out of sight in the non-descriptive car, two men watched with stoic interest as Lionel Fusco entered then left Mila Kelly's residence. "There he is," Bogle remarked with a nod of her head. His partner leveled the rifle at the portly detective and peered thru the scope.

"Tell me when." Clark's finger hovered near the trigger as he waited for the go ahead.

Bogle watched as Fusco descended the stairs. It was so tempting to give the order to put that overweight piece of crap out of his misery once and for all. But not right now. He had to find out what the detective had told Joss Carter's mother. Perhaps it was innocent, but they couldn't risk it. There were no secrets where Alonzo Quinn was concerned.

Bogle flexed his fingers and made a fist. Quinn's mother had been a piece of cake to get information out of, but he wasn't sure it would be the same with Mila Kelly. She looked tough, but he had dealt with tougher.

"Don't shoot," he ordered his partner.

"But..."

"We need to find out what he told her. If we kill him and her now, we won't be able to find out where Quinn's daughter is hiding."

Clark lowered the rifle. His eyes narrowed. He could wait.

Bogle looked out the rear view mirror and waited for Fusco's car to drive by. "Okay." He opened the door. "I'm going. Stay here."

With smart steps, he crossed the street and walked up the sidewalk to the brownstone. Climbing the stairs, he paused for a moment before ringing the bell. He tapped his foot impatiently until he heard the lock turn.

The door opened slowly, but the chain was still in place. "Yes?" Mila asked hesitantly as she eyed the the tall, good looking man on her porch. But looks could be deceiving, and something was telling her to keep her guard up.

"Mila Kelly?" Bogle asked.

"I am she. How may I help you?"

"Your daughter, Joss Carter, was involved in a car accident last night," he replied with just a touch of sympathy in his voice. He needed to make her think he cared before if he was going to draw her in.

Mila's hand flew to her throat. "Are you sure it was her?" Detective Fusco mentioned Joss had been hurt, but not specifics. _No,_ she told herself, _this man is lying. Trust what you know. Joss is safe._

"We're not sure. We think it is. Have you heard from her?"

She shook her head. "No."

"I'm going to need you to come with us."

"Us?" Mila looked around. "Where's your partner?"

"In the car waiting."

"I can't," Mila refused. Slowly the realization dawned on her: These are the men who want to hurt Joss. Her hand gripped the edge of the door and mentally calculated the distance to the phone.

"It's imperative that you come with us. There are papers that need to be signed."

"Papers?" Her blood suddenly ran cold.

"For the surgery." Bogle looked around. "Could I come in and use your phone?"

"It's out of order," Mila made the feeble excuse. "I have to go." She tried to close the door, but Bogle's foot stopped her. He flashed his badge.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but this is a federal matter. I'm going to have to ask you to come with us. We need to find your daughter."

Frightened, yet angry, Mila put her weight behind the door. "You just told me that she's due for surgery," she retorted.

Bogle grabbed her wrist. "I said you need-" A horn honked and tires screeched to a stop.

"Take your hands off of her," Lionel demanded as he ran out of the car and toward the brownstone. His service weapon drawn. His quick ability belied his stature as he flew toward the man assaulting Mila.

Turning around, Bogle lept down the small flight to land on the sidewalk. He lost his balance momentarily and gave Lionel a chance to get the upper hand. As the fists hit his chin, Bogle had to admire the detective's street fighting skills. But he had a trick or two up his sleeve and reached for his weapon hidden in the waistband of his slacks. Bringing the butt down swiftly against Lionel's head, Bogle took satisfaction as the detective groaned and fell to the ground.

With disgust, Bogle delivered a swift kick to Lionel's ribs before jumping into the waiting car. The smell of burning rubber filled the air as the tires screeched along the pavement and the car sped away.

Mila hurried down the steps to the fallen man.

"Detective, are you okay?" she asked and tried to help him up.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Lionel assured her as he slowly pushed himself up. His head hurt and his ribs were screaming, but Joss's mother was alright. That was what mattered most. He blinked quickly to clear the black dots from his vision.

"They wanted to know about Joss," Mila explained. Taking off her apron, she balled it up and pressed it to the cut on Lionel's head. "Just as you said they would. They hurt her. They hurt you."

"I'm okay." Lionel stood up and waited for the world to stop spinning. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why do they want me? I don't know anything."

"They know you know something. We need to get you out of here. Fast." At that moment his phone rang. "Glasses, they found Joss's mom," he panted into the receiver. "We're going to need one of your safe houses and a car."


	27. Chapter 27

_For the record, before you jump on me, I _am_ keeping Reese in character; he doesn't push Joss as hard as he should – unless she has done something behind his back and is jeopardizing her life (and even then, he cuts her slack). He loves and respects her, but he never pushed her as hard as he should have when it came to dealing with certain things. It wasn't until the very end that they actually became equals. So, please, don't call me out; go back re-watch the CaReese eps if you don't believe me._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Reese knocked softly on the door of the master bedroom. Balancing the tray on one hand, he used the other to turn the knob. Steeping inside, he looked at Joss who was sleeping soundly in the bed. He took a moment to watch as her chest rose and fell. He had to keep pinching himself and remember that she was alive. She was alive because of him. But it all seemed to surreal to process.

Setting the tray on the dresser, he walked over and sat down on the edge of the mattress. He fought the urge to reach out and brush the lock of hair from her cheek.

"Joss?" he called softly.

With a groan, Joss opened her eyes. "John," she greeted, her voice thick with sleep. "I had the weirdest dream..." Her words trailed off as she looked around at her surroundings. "It wasn't a dream."

"No. No, it wasn't." Hesitantly, Reese brushed a lock of hair from her face. The bruising around Shaw's stitches was ugly, but not as bad as it could be. He breathed a sigh of relief. The critical hour was almost over, and then Joss would be out of the woods. _And into another form of danger,_ the voice in his head reminded.

"Ow!" she exclaimed after shifting abruptly moved her wrist.

"Here. Let me see that," Reese offered and gestured for her to give him her arm. "The swelling isn't any worse," he observed. "But it would be best for Shaw to look at it. I'll get you another Motrin." He stood up and walked to the bathroom. He emerged with a glass of water and the bottle of pain reliever.

"Take these." He handed over the pills and water, then waited for Joss to swallow. "Are you hungry?"

"I don't know. A little."

Reese picked up the tray and brought it over. "It's not much since the cupboards were pretty bare, but Shaw managed to find something. It's pretty edible," he added quickly to ease her doubts.

Joss looked at the plate and grimaced. "Second though, I'm not hungry," she excused. Her appetite was gone, but her bladder was screaming for relief. Pulling herself up, she waited for the world to stop spinning.

"Are you sure? Here, let me help," Reese offered his hand to her. Joss ignored it.

"I need a shower." She swung her legs over the side of the mattress. She hoped there was a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. As she walked by, Reese reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Joss." The tone of his voice alerted her cop sense. But that fighting part of her was too bruised and battered to care.

Dropping her shoulders, she sighed heavily. "What's wrong, John?" She was tired and in pain, she didn't need anything else at this moment.

There was no easy way to tell her what had happened, but the sooner she found out, the easier it would be to form a plan of attack. He and Shaw were going to need Joss; they couldn't do this on their own. Not when the stakes were all or nothing, and the odds were against them. They needed to be a team.

"Alonzo Quinn escaped from WITSEC."

The colour drained from Joss' face. Blindly she reached behind her for the support of the mattress she had recently vacated.

"What?" A weird rushing noise filled her ears. She brought her hands up to ward off the bad news, but nothing could stop the way her body began to shake uncontrollably.

Reese knelt down before her. He took her hands and held tight. "Joss..."

"When?" she whispered. "How?"

"We got him, Joss. He is with Harold in a safe place where no one is going to find him," he assured and hoped that took some of the pain away. But if her shaky hands were an indicator, nothing was going to ease the shock of knowing their nemesis was out there – and probably planning. And if he wasn't, there were more than enough men to do it for him. And they were caught in the middle.

"What about the people who tried to kill me last night, John? They aren't going to stop until they find one of us. Or him." Suddenly she was so cold. She rubbed her hands on her arms, but she still shivered.

"No one knows about this place, Joss," he assured her. "Don Moretti wasn't exactly a socializer."

Joss pulled her hand away and stood up. "I told you last night, John, this isn't going to end. They are going to find us, and when they do, they are going to kill us."

"I would lay my life down for you, Joss. Shaw and Fusco and Harold will do the same. We are not going to let anything happen to you. Not again," he replied firmly. His eyes held hers and dared her not to believe him.

Joss closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "The third time is not usually the charm. You and I cheated our destiny twice, but that doesn't mean it's going to happen again. If they don't get me here, they'll get me somewhere else."

Reese stood up and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Joss, listen." He turned her around so she could face him.

She pulled back. "I need a shower, John. Can we talk later?" she asked sadly.

Reese squeezed her shoulder. It was all he could do to let her go – even if she was going one room over.

He smiled. "Sure. Make sure you eat." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I'll be downstairs." Turning on his heel, he left her to get freshened up. They could talk later.  
****

"How is Joss?" Paul asked, keeping his voice low. He looked over his shoulder just to be on the safe side. Maybe it was his military training, but he could feel the danger all around him. No one could have done what his ex-wife had done without some leftover rats coming out of the woodwork to look for scraps.

"She's safe," Fusco assured without elaborating.

"What about Taylor?" Despite the night before, Paul's parental instinct took over. He would lay his life down for his son.

"I don't think they are going to come after him. Are you listed on Joss's POC list for emergencies?"

Paul shook his head. "I don't think so. We hadn't discussed it since I was still...you know, working things out with Taylor," he tried to explain. "I don't think she updated the list." He tried to remember if they discussed it, but his memory was blank. But it didn't matter. Not anymore.

"I'm still going to need you to leave your place and go to a safe-house with Taylor," Fusco instructed.

"Are you sure?" Paul quickly ran a few scenarios thru his head. There had to be something they could do other than running and hiding. He was prepared to fight. He took down worse in Afghanistan and Iraq. He had been there when Baghdad fell, he could take this threat on with his eyes closed.

"I've seen these men at their worst, and they won't stop until they get what they want. They have already attacked Quinn's mother and tried to abduct Joss' mother," Fusco pointed out. "If they think they can use you or Taylor as pawns to draw Joss out, they will."

Okay, Paul conceded, one plan down. "I see. I will pick Taylor up from school and head to the safe-house," he promised.

"I'll send you the coordinates."

Disconnecting, Paul had to remember to breathe. The urge in him to track down the men who were trying to kill his ex – again – flamed hot, and he had to close his eyes and suppress it before it got out of control. But he wanted to be there, in the fight, taking down everyone who started this...evil.

_Think of Taylor,_ his conscience said calmly. _If he loses you _and_ Joss, he will have no one._

Joss was already in the middle, and he was here. There was nothing he could do to rectify the situation other than accept it and protect their son.

Finding that peace inside, he prayed. "God, please protect her." Only then could he relax. He forced himself to relax. It would do no good to be upset in front of Taylor.

The phone beeped, and a second later the directions flashed on the screen. Paul started the car. "I can do this," he said to no one in particular." Then he put the car in drive.  
********

"What do you mean he's 'gone'?!" Bogle yelled into the phone. Hot rage overtook him and it was all he could do not to reach for his weapon.

"We went by the house this morning, and he wasn't there," the voice on the other end replied.

"You were supposed to be watching him! What happened?"

"We don't know. There was a break -"

"A break? A break?! It was supposed to be a 24 hour surveillance! There are no breaks!"

"We're trying to find out what happened," the voice excused. "He was here."

"But he isn't there now. The man did not just walk out of his house and disappear into the wind; someone saw something! Someone knows something!"

"We–we're trying."

"Alonzo Quinn is sitting on 20 million dollars, you asshole! _He_ is the _only_ key to finding that money and returning it to its rightful owners," Bogle spat. He took a deep breath. "Where did he go?"

"We don't know. We checked the passenger lists at every airport, bus terminal, and train station in the state, but we can't find the alias he used. We don't know where he's going or how he's getting there. He could have help for all we know."

Realization slowly dawned on Bogle. "I can think of one place. He's here."

"Are you sure?"

"He's a creature of habit. He will go where he feels the safest. And New York is it."

"What do we do?"

"Get your asses out here and help. You let him escape, and now he's on the loose. If he leaves the country, we're fucked. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"We'll be on the next flight," the man promised.

"You're going to help me clean up this mess. And if this falls through, I'm holding you and your team personally responsible," the threat was clear in Bogle's tone. "If I die due to your fuck up, I'm taking you with me!" He hung up without waiting for the response.

"FUCK!" Bogle yelled and threw his phone against the wall. He was dead. They were all dead. But Quinn was going first. And that bitch cop and her partner, too.


	28. Chapter 28

_I hope that you guys are ready to read some more Fusco. What can I say? He started talking to me this morning, and the only way to quiet him was to write down everything he said._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"Have a seat, Joss," Shaw gestured toward the chair beside the dining room table. "I want to check you out." She waited for Joss to settle before beginning her examination. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better." Except every muscle in her body ached.

Shaw gently touched the stitches. "Does this hurt?"

"A little," Joss admitted with a slight wince. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she knew if she closed her eyes, the nightmare would come back. Her hand unconsciously touched her chest were the scar from the bullet wound was.

"The swelling has gone down, and there is no sign of infection." Shaw put her finger up in front of Joss's face. "Follow my finger," she instructed and moved it in different directions. Satisfied, she pulled back. "Your pupils are almost back to normal size, so I think you're pretty much out of the woods."

"I still have a headache."

"That's to be expected. It should pass in a couple of days. You're still going to look like a boxer until the bruises fade," Shaw remarked. With the utmost care, she dabbed the wound with a cotton ball drenched in hydrogen peroxide.

Joss steeled herself and tried not to move. "I can live with that." At that moment, looks were the last thing on her mind.

"I still wouldn't rule out an MRI or CAT scan to be on the safe side. You did take a heavy blow to your head. I want to make sure your brain stem is okay." Shaw threw the cotton ball in the small trash can.

"How's the wrist?" She motioned at Joss's right arm.

"Hurts." Though not as much as her pride.

"Scale of one to ten?"

"Uh...a seven, I think. It doesn't compare to being shot, but it's up there. Heh," Joss said with a shrug. She tried not to pull back as Shaw carefully and with expert hands, examined her arm.

"Your fingers are a little swollen, but that's going to happen since you can't and shouldn't move them. I'm not going to unwrap the splint until tonight. But I do want to get you an ice pack. And I want you to keep it elevated," Shaw instructed.

Joss nodded. "Okay."

Shaw closed the First-Aid kit, then peeled the gloves off her hands and tossed them in the trash. She gave her patient a serious look. "John said you didn't eat."

Joss inwardly groaned. She should have known he would rat her out. "I'm not hungry."

"I'll admit that I make a better doctor than a chef, but it wasn't that bad. You should try to get something in your stomach to counter all the meds, Joss."

"I..."

"Doctor's orders."

Joss sighed and dropped her shoulders. "Sure. You win."

"I'll get you something. Stay here." Shaw stood up and patted Joss's shoulder.

"You know, Shaw, for all of your stoicism and hard ass attitude, you're really not so bad," Joss admitted.

Shaw turned around. "Right back atcha, Joss. Just don't tell anyone," she winked.

The women shared a small, knowing smile between them.

"I'll be right back." Shaw disappeared into the kitchen to leave Joss alone with her thoughts.  
****

Sitting down at his desk, Fusco tried to relax, but as he glanced at Carter's desk, he felt a weird sense of apprehension go thru him. He tried to assure himself that everything was alright, and that if he were needed, Wonder Boy would contact him.

Nervously he looked down at his phone. No new messages. Sighing, he shoved it back in his coat pocket.

Picking up his reading glasses, he adjusted them on his nose and picked up a folder. If he couldn't be of any use to his friends, he could at least try to do something to help take down the remaining criminals on the streets.

"Detective Fusco," a voice asked from behind. Lionel set the folder down and turned around in his chair.

"How can I help you?" he asked as he quickly sized up the well dressed man and his partner. He would bet his bank account they were feds. And he would bet his pension they were here for Carter.

The tall man flashed his credentials. "I'm Marshall Peters," he introduced himself. "This is Marshall Jackson," he nodded toward the short man standing on his right. "We need to ask you a few questions."

Taking off his glasses, Fusco laid them on the desk. "I'll do my best to answer them."

"Have you had any contact with your partner Detective Jocelyn Carter?"

"No."

"Not even a phone call?"

Fusco kept his expression blank. After all he had been through, he had the right to be distrustful of anyone in authority. "No. Why? Is something wrong?"

"She didn't show up to the rendezvous point last night," Peters informed. "We're wondering if you heard anything."

Fusco shook his head. "She hasn't called me." It was the truth, yet he didn't feel the need to elaborate further than that simple answer.

"She's your partner, and she hasn't contacted you?" Marshall Jackson asked with incredulity.

"No. No, she hasn't. What's happened?" Fusco asked. His eyes jumped from one agent to the other.

"I'm sure you're aware that she was supposed to escort a material witness into protective custody." Marshall Peters looked down at this notes. "A, uh, a Sonseeahray Quinn, who happens to be the daughter of Alonzo Quinn – the same man who put a hit out on her." He leveled a steel gaze at Fusco. "And you."

"I appreciate the reminder, Marshall," Fusco replied with just a tad bit of disdain in his tone.

"Weren't you supposed to accompany your partner in the transport of the witness?" Peters inquired.

Fusco nodded. "I was. I was detained with other matters and couldn't fulfill my obligation."

"May I ask what these 'other matters' were?"

"I was sent out of state to investigate a new development on a cold case," Fusco returned smoothly.

"How convenient for you, Detective."

"Last minute change of plans, compliments of my Captain. I didn't have a say. "You'll have to ask Captain Womack what happened," he threw the blame back where it belonged."

"Your Captain sent you out of town knowing that your partner was escorting a targeted witness?" Peters couldn't believe his ears.

"Don't believe me, ask him. But then again, getting the truth out of him might entail some kind of miracle only Jesus could perform," Fusco replied tongue in cheek.

"We found the vehicle Detective Carter was driving." Peters pulled out his phone and showed the mangled wreckage of Joss's SUV. "She was three hundred miles outside of Manhattan."

Fusco glanced quickly then looked away. "What happened?"

"We believe she was ran off the road by an unknown driver. The SUV appears to have rolled three times before resting beside a tree. We did find bullet holes in the SUV and the bodies of two unidentified men nearby, but no trace of her. Do you know if she mentioned being followed by anyone?"

Fusco tried not too appear nervous, but the news of Joss nearly dying again, shook him to his core. "We haven't spoken since yesterday morning. Are you sure she wasn't in the vehicle?"

"We found her cell phone and purse, but her service weapon was missing. We believe she's been injured severely since blood was found inside."

"Have you checked the hospitals?" Fusco asked.

"We have APB's out to every hospital and clinic between here and the accident site. That is why we need to know if she's contacted you."

"She hasn't. But I'm sure she has her reasons."

Exasperated, the agents looked at one another. They had no leads and no way of pining any of their suspicions on the rotund detective, but their hands were tied. Joss Carter was missing, and Alonzo Quinn was on the run, and their hands were tied until they got a solid lead.

"You are aware that Alonzo Quinn has escaped and is on the run?" Jackson asked hoping the news would throw Fusco.

His hands shoved deep in his dress slacks pockets, Fusco crossed his fingers to ward off any bad karma. "This is the first I've heard of it. Do you know where he is?" he wondered.

"We're sure he's heading back here to New York. Has he been in contact with you?"

"Trust me, the last thing Alonzo Quinn wants to do is contact me," Fusco tried to keep the venom out of his tone. "If he's smart, he'll leave the country," he advised to the Marshals.

"So, he hasn't contacted you?" Peters repeated the question. His eyes met Fusco's in a form of intimidation. But the Detective was prepared for it. After all he had been through during his career, a couple of wet-behind the ears Federal Marshalls were not going to intimidate him.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again: No." Fusco's blue eyes blazed hot and dared the agent to contradict him.

"We have reason to believe his life is in danger."

"Is that so? I'd act surprised, but I forgot my 'surprised' face at home this morning," Fusco quipped dryly.

"We need to find your partner. And we need to find Quinn."

"I don't know where she is; I don't know where he is," Fusco replied honestly. He _didn't _know where Joss was or how she was faring. All he knew was that their mutual friends were taking care of her, and she was safe. For the moment. And he couldn't give two shits about Quinn.

Marshall Peters handed his card over. "If Joss Carter should contact you..."

"She won't. But if she does, I'll call you," Fusco dismissed the pair. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish filing these reports before my Captain has my ass."

They knew when to take their leave. But the Marshalls would be back. As they turned around, Peters caught Womack staring intently from his office before quickly lowering his eyes.

Yeah, Peters thought to himself, they were going to be revisiting the 8th Precinct before too long.  
*****

"Where are we?" Taylor asked as he waited for Paul to unlock the door to the safe-house.

"I didn't ask questions," Paul replied simply and turned the knob. Opening the door, he stepped inside the modestly but adequately furnished living area. Heavy drapes hung to cover the windows. Setting his overnight bag on the island separating the living area from the kitchen, Paul finally took a deep breath.

"So, you don't know why we're here?" Taylor asked in disbelief. "You pull me out of school and take me to the middle of nowhere and you didn't bother to ask?"

Paul closed his eyes and counted to ten. Turning slowly, he faced his son.

"Taylor, I'm not sure what is happening, but it's safer for us to be here. Trust me on that."

Taylor hiked his duffel bag higher on his shoulder and looked down at his shoes. "It's her fault, isn't it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Mom. She got herself into some kind of trouble – again – and we are paying for it."

"I don't know what is going on, Taylor, but I am sure that your mother has it under control," Paul tried to diffuse the moment that threatened to blow up.

"Sure she does. She's always running head long into things without considering the consequences," Taylor fumed. _Like having sex with strangers,_ he thought to himself.

"I'm not sure where this attitude is coming from, son, but I suggest you put a cork in it. Now," Paul warned.

Taylor gave a sarcastic snort. "Really? You're still defending her. Unbelievable."

Paul squared his shoulders. "What does that mean?" he asked. He promised to hold on to his temper, but with each second Taylor kept pressing him, the more he found himself losing control.

"Look, Dad, I don't really want to get into it. I'm going to go to my room." Taylor headed down the short hallway to the door at the end. Opening it, he stepped inside before he closed it with a kick.

Paul balled his fists and counted to ten. He let out his breath. Then he counted again. He felt his heart begin to race and his blood pressure rise. He swallowed, licked his lips, and forced himself to breathe normally.

_Get a drink,_ the little voice in the back of his mind taunted. _You know you want one. Give in._

"No," he said out loud. "No." He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his three year medallion for sobriety. He had been through a lot in the past few years, but he would be damned if a teenager was going to make him give up everything. But damn if it wasn't tempting. A drink would be good right about now.

But he was better than that, he told himself as he turned the coin over his fingers and slowly began to relax.

"I don't know how you do it, Joss," he said under his breath. "God help me, I don't know how you do it. But if you make it through this – for Taylor's sake, _and_ mine, too, – I'm going to take you to dinner. After I build an altar to you."


	29. Chapter 29

_I promise that I'm posting as fast as I can!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Finch surveyed the room with a sharp eye as he approached the fence. He looked over the clean walls and floor, and had to admit that Alonzo Quinn had done a very good job of cleaning up the mess.

He glanced down and noticed the pail and broken cart sitting near the gate. Over in the corner sat the prisoner reading a book. Finch cleared his throat.

"I thank you."

"Hmmm." Quinn didn't bother to look up from the book.

"I need to take Bear for his walk," Finch informed without any warmth. "I take it you can be trusted to behave yourself."

"If you're implying that I'm secretly tunneling my way out of this hell hole," Quinn quipped, "I can assure you that I have no such intention."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Quinn, but your history proves quite the contrary." Finch felt the hair raise on the back of his neck. He couldn't put his finger on what had him cautious, but he had no choice but to trust Quinn not to break out while he walked Bear.

"We'll be back."

"Don't hurry back on my account," Quinn dismissed his warden.

Finch gave a slight tug on the leash to signal to the canine it was time to leave. Taking a step, Finch stopped and gave one more look at the man sitting at the long table. They were going to have to hurry back, he told himself. He didn't trust Quinn any further than he could pick the man up and toss him across the room, and the feeling was only getting stronger with each passing moment.

Clicking his tongue, Finch started walking and Bear fell in step beside him. The echo of their steps reverberated off the desolate walls.

Staring at the book, Quinn's lips moved, but he bided his time. The clock on the wall counted off the seconds, then the minutes.

"Three hundred," Quinn said and lifted his head. The coast was clear – he was sure of it – and now it was time to do a little surveillance. Pushing himself away from the table, he stood up and surveyed the room. He didn't have to peel the blackout screening back to know he was too high up to scale down the wall to freedom, and the solid stone walls were in and of themselves a deterrent. He had no choice but to work a little magic on the gate lock.

He looked around for anything he could use to pick the lock. All he needed was a little piece of metal, but he wasn't picky – he hadn't grown up on the mean streets of Queens and not learned how to use a little of something to make things work.

Searching the room, he finally found what he was looking for. Leaning against the gate, he blindly searched for the keyhole. The minutes ticked by slowly and the sweat ran down his face as he tried to manipulate the lock. Twice the thought he got it. He cursed under his breath. Adjusting his angle, he tried again until he heard the click.

Jubilant, he tested the gate. As it slid back, he almost shouted with joy. He was free. He could leave. Then he sobered.

Leaving was an option, but where would he go? How would he get there? He had no idea where Sonsee was, or what shape she was in. He had no weapon to defend himself, and there were bad guys searching the streets for his sorry ass. Basically, he was free, but he was fucked. Yeah, he had no choice but to overpower the cripple who was holding him against his will.

_Good idea, _the little voice in his head taunted, _but how are you going to get around the dog?_

Sobered by the realization that the dog could literally tear him limb from limb before he even stepped out of the cell, he knew that he had to get more information. If he could find out where Sonsee was, then he could leave during the next break.

The sound of footsteps made him jump back. Quickly he closed the gate and returned to his seat at the table. He had just lowered his head when the figure appeared.

"Here's your lunch," Fusco announced and held a brown paper bag up. "Hope you like tuna. Personally, I guess I should have asked what you like, but since you didn't give me or Joss an option...yeah." Using the spare key, he unlocked the gate.

"I'm not hungry," Quinn replied.

"Like I care. My job is to make sure you get something to eat. What you do with it, is completely up to you. Eat it, roll in it, shove it up your ass, you piece of scum," Fusco growled. He placed the bag on the ground. "I don't care."

Quinn looked up. There was a glitter of hatred in his eyes. "What happened to my rights as a prisoner?"

"They went out the window the second you ordered a hit on your godson, you stupid bastard."

Quinn stood to his full height. He could rush the portly detective and make his escape, he reasoned, but there was the matter of said detective being armed.

Fusco glared at his captive. "Don't even think about it, scumbag. I'll put you out of my misery faster than you can say 'I didn't do it'." His hand moved to his weapon.

"Ballistics will show that you shot me," Quinn retorted.

"Who said I would shoot you with my service weapon?" Fusco returned.

"I should have known you'd return back to your dirty roots."

"Take a dirty cop to know a dirty cop."

The two men faced off – each one judging the other and taking in their weak and vulnerable points – until Quinn broke the silence by speaking.

"What's your price?" he asked.

Quinn's sudden interest wasn't lost on Fusco. "What are you asking?"

"Your price. Everyone has one; I know you have yours – or at least you used to have your price. So, what is it? A hundred thousand?"

Fusco tried not to be shocked by Quinn's assumption. "You think you can bribe me?"

"Wouldn't be the first time. I know you were on HR's payroll."

Fusco shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his dark past. "That was a long time ago. I'm not that same guy."

Quinn grinned. "Yeah, you are. People like us don't change. We're bottom feeders and we're proud of it." He took a couple of steps forward. "We use people to get ahead, and when that doesn't work, we step on them. It's who we are."

Fusco's eyes blazed hot. "I am nothing like you. You killed people - innocent people – to get ahead. You stole and lied to make the millions you used to live in a lap of luxury. I'm nothing like you."

Quinn chuckled. "You are, Fusco. In more ways than you'll ever admit, you are more like me than some of the people who worked for me. If I had had more of your kind on my staff, I wouldn't be sitting here."

"I wouldn't have worked on your staff to save my life," Fusco declared defiantly.

"You would have. Because you're a follower, not a leader. I can see it in you, Fusco. You don't have it in you to be a leader; you're an outcast. People like you have to follow to belong, or die. Why do you think you're pandering to that suit? You want to belong, and he makes you feel as though you have a purpose."

"And you think that if I leave him and join you that I'll be better off in life? Following a man who assassinated an ADA and one of the best detectives I had the blessing to know?" Fusco challenged. "I think you're off your rocker. You don't belong in prison or WITSEC, you belong in an insane asylum."

"Some of the most revered geniuses were insane."

"Oh, you mean like Hitler and Manson?" Fusco wondered. "Yeah, look where they ended up. But if you want to join them, I'll be more than happy to help you."

"Just name your price."

"And in return, I let you out."

"It's a 'win-win' for both of us. I know you need the money; I need to find my daughter."

"There's not enough money in the world to make me break my promise to my friends."

"Every man has his breaking point, and every man has his price." Quinn could feel that he was losing the detective, but he had to give it one more try. "I think yours is loyalty, and I get it. You think that if you hold me here that your friends are going to remain safe? This time, when they kill me, they are going to kill Carter and your friends and my daughter. And they might even kill you."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Fusco wondered.

"No," Quinn admitted. "Let me out. Let me get my daughter and leave the country," he pleaded. "I'll make it worth your while, and in helping me, your friends get to live."

Fusco could feel the debate brewing inside of him. He wanted his friends to live, and he wanted Quinn out of their lives forever. It was a win-win for all involved.

The sound of Bear's nails on the marble floor brought Fusco back to the present.

Hardening his features, he glared at his nemesis. "The day I betray my friends will be the day I die."

"You're going to die any way," Quinn said matter of factly.

Fusco nodded. "You might be right. But at least I'll die with a clear conscience. Can you say the same?" He turned around and stepped out of the room. He pulled the gate closed and locked it.

"You're making the wrong decision, Detective."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Fusco turned his back and walked away.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," Quinn called out confidently.

Standing alone in the room, he pondered what he had learned: Fusco was too loyal to turn, and the suit wasn't going to let him out. Although he learned to open his prison cell, without knowing where his daughter was, it was a death sentence to be wandering the city alone. He needed to listen and learn, then he could react. Yes, that is what he would do. And then he would leave.

Hearing a growl, he looked to see Bear standing on the other side of the gate.

Then again, he thought to himself, maybe he was going to have to go with Plan B.


	30. Chapter 30

_Trust me when I say that it's building up to a couple of show downs. But first we have to get over the little bumps in the road. And for the record, Reese isn't going anywhere, and Joss, deep down inside, knows it. She's just taking a little while acknowledging it._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"She's gone!" the voice said over the phone.

"Who?"

"Carter's mother."

"Are you sure?" Bogle asked. His hand gripped the cell. "Did you go to her place? Did you knock on the door?"

"I checked her place thoroughly. My guess is that the detective hid her some place."

"Did you follow him?"

"We tried. We lost him."

"And the tracker you put on his car...?" Bogle prompted. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was proof that good help was hard to find these days. One plan. They had one plan to follow – one simple little plan. God! He wanted to kill something or someone!

"We found his car in Commack, but he wasn't in it. We think he ditched it."

"No, shit, Sherlock! You were supposed to follow him!" Bogle paced the room like a caged animal. This wasn't happening, he told himself. Everything was quickly going to hell, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "What about that bitch's ex-husband?"

"He's gone too. We blue-jacked his phone and found out that someone contacted him regarding his son, but when we got to the school, the kid was gone."

"Damn it!" Bogle could feel his blood pressure rising. He tried to take a deep breath and get himself under control. "Where did they go? Did you track his phone?"

"He's in the wind. The phone is dead."

"No, _you're_ dead if you don't find them." There was no way that pudgy, overweight fuck up of a detective pulled a fast one on him. He had to have help, Bogle reasoned. But who?

"Maybe we should go after Fusco's son and use him to get his dad to come clean," the voice on the other side reasoned.

Bogle shook his head. "Not possible. Fusco is a lot of things, but he doesn't do ultimatums. Peterson and Simmons are proof of that. No, leave the kid alone." It was killing him to say those words, but nothing would be gained if Fusco came after him and they lost Quinn in the process.

"Boss, we're here. We can get him."

"I want the money; I don't want death at the hands of Lionel Fusco." Bogle raced thru his options. "I'm sure he knows where his partner is and where Quinn is hiding. I'd bet dollars to donuts that he is behind both. Screw the kid. We need to get Fusco," he surmised. "We get him, we get Quinn. It's a win-win."

"You sure?" There was doubt in the man's voice.

"Trust me on this." Bogle's gut was telling him that this was the best way to go. He had learned a long time ago in the field to trust his instincts. No, this was the only way to accomplish the plan of capturing Quinn, finding the money, and eliminating Joss Carter all in one fell swoop. "Find Fusco."

"How? If he ditched his car, where do we start?" the voice asked with incredulity.

"Start at the precinct, asshole," Bogle snapped impatiently. With the dip shits he had to work with and think for, it was a pure wonder they had gotten this far. "He still has to show up for work. He might be lower than scum, but he still has a work ethic."

"You sure? What if he went underground?"

"He's not going to do anything to draw suspicion. Womack is keeping an eye on him. Now find him!" Bogle clicked the phone off. He had to check in with the big guy in two hours. He prayed they found something by then.  
*****

_Joss' mom is safe. Stopped the bad guys. Taylor and ex are safe. Womack suspicious. I'm sure he's behind it. Million eyes watching my every move. Quinn is getting antsy. Will keep you posted. Tell Joss to call her mom. Fusco._

Reese looked down at the text. He closed his eyes and tried to suppress the urge to kill. He should have known that if they couldn't get to Joss, they would try another alternative. There was no way to tell her that Fusco thwarted an attempted abduction of her mother. It was going to destroy her already fragile state – and possibly their relationship. But what other choice did he have? He promised to tell her the truth at any cost.

His phone beeped twice. He glanced at the screen to see the number Fusco had texted. His hands were tied. He had to tell her.

Climbing the stairs, he took his time approaching the master bedroom. Raising his fist, he knocked.

"Come in," Joss invited. Her voice barely carried through the heavy oak.

Reese turned the knob and entered. He noticed Joss sitting on the bed. She looked so small on the King sized bed. Her eyes were blackening from the head wound, but from what he could tell, the gash seemed to be healing nicely. He still had to remind himself that she was alive.

Sitting down on the bed, he looked at her and tried to find the right words to break the news.

"John, what's wrong?" she asked, immediately alarmed by his demeanor. She knew the look in his eyes when something was wrong.

"Joss," he began. "I just received a text from Fusco. They tried to grab your mother."

Joss sat straight up as Reese's meaning became clear. "Who?" Fear grabbed her by the throat and threatened to choke her. "My mom..." She left the rest unsaid. Reese covered her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"She's alright," he added quickly to ease the pain he knew she had to be feeling. "Lionel and Finch took her to a safe-house until this is over."

Wide-eyed with fear and shock, Joss looked to Reese for reassurance. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. But they also had to take Paul and Taylor to a safe-house, just to be on the safe side."

Joss shook her head. First her friends, then her life were in jeopardy. Now they were coming after her family. Was it ever going to end?

"Is she okay?" Joss whispered. She tried to ignore the little voice in her head telling her otherwise.

"She's fine. Lionel is not going to let anything happen to her. Trust me. Trust him. But she wants you to call her." Reese handed over the phone. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly. As the electricity sparked, their eyes met and held before Joss looked away.

Joss held the phone in her good hand. She looked at it stupidly. "What do I tell her?"

"That you're okay. That you're alive, Joss." Reese looked at her and tried to bring her comfort. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No. I can call her."

Reese leaned in and gave a kiss to Joss' forehead. "I'll be downstairs if you need me. Okay?" He stood up and walked to the door. He didn't want to leave, but right now it was the best choice for both of them. He let Joss know he was there for her. There was nothing else he could do.

"Okay." Joss tried to ward off the cold feeling of loneliness overwhelming her. She twirled the phone around in her hand and barely heard the door closed. Taking a deep breath, she hit "TALK" and waited for the call to connect.

Two rings later, she heard a familiar voice on the other end.

"Joss? Darling, is that you?" Mila nearly wept into the receiver. "Tell me you're okay," she pleaded.

Taken over by emotions, Joss tried to catch her breath before replying, "Mommy." Then she broke down and wept.


	31. Chapter 31

_Paul is going to confront Taylor with surprising and heartbreaking consequences._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Paul turned off the TV and tried to pick up a magazine. Thumbing thru the pages, he tried to concentrate on the articles, but nothing seemed to grab his attention.

It had been four hours since he and Taylor received the text alert from an anonymous source stating that they were in danger and needed to get to somewhere safe. So, he did as he was instructed and took Taylor out of school and headed to a loft in the middle of nowhere.

At the time it seemed like a good idea – they were safe, and he and Taylor would be able to talk. But talking was the last thing the teen had wanted to do. Not once since they arrived had the bedroom door opened. It wasn't as though they didn't have a lot to talk about, but where did one begin when it came to a teenager? He tried to put himself in Taylor's shoes and remember what life had been like at that age. But that had been thirty years ago, and times were different – and parenting, too!

Paul closed his eyes and said a prayer for peace. Where was Joss when he needed her?

His stomach rumbled in response. He threw the magazine down on the coffee table and stood up. Maybe if he made dinner, Taylor would emerge from his cave.

Walking to the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and tried to decide what to cook. Nothing appealed to him, so he tried the freezer. Taking out the ready to eat frozen meals, he set them on the counter. The directions said he could microwave them, but he was going to need a little more time than that. He readied the oven.

Pulling the cardboard dishes out, he placed them on a cookie sheet and shoved them into the oven. Then he set the timer for 40 minutes.

Turning around, he walked down the short hallway to the room at the end. Squaring his shoulders, he donned his best Army attitude, and knocked.

"What?" Taylor answered from the other side.

"May I come in?"

"I'm busy." Taylor put the ear-buds back in place and returned to the game on his phone. A second later he jumped in surprise as the tall figure appeared beside his bed. "What the heck, Dad?!"

"We need to talk," Paul stated firmly.

Taylor rolled his eyes. "I said I'm busy."

"I don't care if you're performing open heart surgery; we need to talk."

"If this is about the other night."

"It is."

Taylor ripped the ear-buds out and groaned. "I learned my lesson, okay? So you can get off my back, okay?"

"No, son, it isn't _okay._ It's far from okay." Paul pulled the chair from under the desk and sat down. "I want to know what's going on."

"Nothing."

"Well, that 'nothing' ruined the interior of my brand new car."

"Dad..."

"Don't 'Dad' me, son. There is something going on in that teenage brain of yours, and I want to find out what it is."

Taylor shook his head. "What does it matter?" he scoffed. "It's not like you care."

"I care, son. I care more than you know. Now talk to me."

"Talk to you? You're gone, what? Ten years? Then you suddenly show up and now you want to talk?"

"Is that what this is about? Me leaving?"

"It's more than that, Dad. You abandoned us when we needed you!"

"And I'm sorry for that. But I'm here now. And I want to help you work thru what ever problems you have going on."

"Talk to you." Taylor gave a short laugh. "That will make everything better. Everything is great, Dad."

"Is that why you lied and went to a keg party behind my back? Is that why you got so drunk I almost had to rush you to the hospital to get your stomach pumped because I thought you had alcohol poisoning?"

"You're being over dramatic, Dad. I had a couple of drinks."

"A couple of drinks don't make you so inebriated that you become a supreme asshole and vomit a twenty foot trail."

"My drink was spiked."

"And the moon is made of cheese. You can't bullshit me, Taylor; I've been in your shoes. I'm still in your shoes. Every day I live I am in your shoes," Paul said thru clenched teeth. "And I'll be damned if I let you go down this road."

"What are you saying, Dad?"

"I'm an alcoholic. I've been an alcoholic since I was seventeen."

Taylor looked at the man he admired and shook his head in denial. "No. You're not an alcoholic. Mom never said..."

"What did your mom tell you?"

"That you had problems you needed to take care of. That's why you left us."

"That was part of it. I had more than a few problems. Alcohol being one of them. PTSD was the other."

Taylor tried to make sense of Paul's confession. "Wait. No. You and Mom couldn't make it work and she kicked you out," he contradicted. "I remember."

"Son, that's not what happened."

"I remember, Dad. I remember that last fight. Mom pulled a gun on you and told you to leave."

"She pulled a gun on me because I was high and drunk and I made a move toward her," Paul corrected. "She had every right."

"She kicked you out," Taylor remarked bitterly.

"She made the right choice. If she had let me stay, I would be dead."

"She denied me my father."

Paul looked at his flesh and blood with sad eyes. "No, son. I did that. I was too proud to take the steps necessary to heal myself. I denied that there were problems – with her, with me, with our marriage."

"But she..." Taylor tried to find the right words to put Joss in a bad light. But none came to mind. "Why did she lie to me?"

"To protect you. You were eight years old, Taylor. You didn't need that burden on your shoulders. She was hurt and wounded from her time in Fallujah, and I was reeling from combat."

"You could have told me!" Taylor protested. "I would have understood."

"Son, you barely understand this conversation now; you wouldn't have understood at eight."

"I needed you."

"I know you did. That is my fault. I'm sorry."

"Is that why you're making it up to me now? I mean the sleep-overs and roller-blading?"

Paul considered the question. "I guess I am. But I want us to be closer."

"So, you're bribing me?"

"I'm trying to connect with you. I want us to be friends."

"Okay," Taylor dismissed his dad.

"But that said, Taylor, nothing explains why you did what you did the other night."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I do."

"Sucks to be you." Taylor shoved the ear-buds back in and cranked up the volume. A moment later they were ripped out and the device taken from his hands. Startled by his dad's reaction, Taylor backed up and pressed himself against the headboard. "That was my I-Pod," he stammered.

"We are going to talk. Now."

Taylor swallowed hard and nodded.

"What has gotten into you, Taylor? Everything was good, and then you turned around and did some dumb ass stunt. What were you trying to prove?"

"I don't know."

"You do know. You called your mother a bitch. I don't agree with your assessment, but I figure you have a reason. I want to hear it."

Taylor bit his trembling lip and tried to form his thoughts. His bravado was the only thing he had left, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"She lied to me," Taylor whispered hoarsely. His fingers curled tightly into the sheets. "She lied to you."

Paul kept his face clear of emotion. "How did she do that?"

"I caught her having sex in the kitchen with another man the night you dropped me off to get my stuff," Taylor admitted. He had replayed the scene a dozen times in his head, but saying the words out loud caused him to drop his head in embarrassment.

"Your mom was doing...what?" Paul tried to make sense of the confession.

"Sex, dad!" Taylor bit out. "With a stranger. That is why she wanted me gone for the weekend."

"I see." He didn't, not really, but Paul was trying to see the situation thru his son's eyes.

"She finally gives me my dad back, and then she does that. And now she's gotten herself into some kind of trouble – again – and I have to be in hiding so the 'bad guys' don't try to kidnap me again. And she put you in the mix. And leaves us high and dry."

"So, you went out and got drunk because you were angry with her?" Paul understood the reasoning behind Taylor's actions – hell, he had done the same thing and made the same excuses – but that didn't make what Taylor did right.

"It's not like she cares," Taylor replied as he fought back the hot tears threatening to fall. "Where do you think she right now?" he asked rhetorically. "She is off causing trouble or getting into trouble because she doesn't care about me. Or you."

"Son," Paul began as gently as he could, "I don't think you understand..."

"I understand perfectly clear, Dad. I'm not some stupid teenager." Taylor wiped the tears from his cheek with the back of his hand. "She was supposed to get back with you."

Paul blinked at the revelation. "What?"

"That's why you came back, right? You and Mom were supposed to get back together so we could become a family again. But then she had to go and ruin it all."

"Taylor, you don't know what you're saying."

"She loves you, Dad! And you love her!"

None of what Taylor was saying was making any sense, but Paul was trying to comprehend. "I get what you are trying so say, son, but that doesn't explain why you lied to me and her. Why did you put your life at risk?"

"Because I hate her, Dad! I hate her. I wish she were dead! Then I could live with you!" Taylor shouted angrily. Rolling on his side, he turned his back to Paul. A moment later his body shook with sobs.

Stunned and shocked by the outburst, Paul was about to return verbal fire. But the words faded as he watched his son curl up in fetal position. In a second his son had gone from teen to child. And he felt more helpless than before he had knocked on the door to look for answers.

Unable to say anything, Paul sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand moved forward then stopped. Taking a deep breath, he laid his hand on Taylor's shoulder.

And in the silence, he tried to give the young man comfort.


	32. Chapter 32

_Fusco talked to me the other night, and this is what he told me. It's a very heartfelt conversation between him and his ex wife. I hope you like it._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"I need you to take Lee and go to your mother's place," Lionel spoke low despite being in the security of his ex's living room. He felt a million eyes on him, and he had no idea who he could and couldn't trust anymore. He hated the feeling, but he was going to have to live with it until HR was finally and completely taken down.

"What is going on, Lionel?" Cassandra Fusco demanded.

"I can't explain it right now."

Eyes narrowing, her hands went on her hips. "What do you mean you 'can't explain it right now'?"

"Just what I said," Lionel deflected and shifted his weight from one leg to another.

"Have you gotten into trouble again?" Cassie asked.

Lionel sighed. "It wasn't me. Just do as I ask, Cassie. Take Lee to your mother's and stay there until I call you."

"If I'm uprooting my son and taking him to Buffalo, I want to know why."

"I can't get into it."

"How convenient for you," Cassie mocked. She didn't try to hide the disgust in her voice.

"Cassie, I really don't need this right now. Please do as I ask and when it's over, I promise to tell you everything."

"You put Lee in danger. Again."

"Lee's not in danger," Lionel contradicted. "Per se."

"Per se? _Per se?_ What the hell does that mean? Either he is or he isn't!"

"Cassie..."

"Don't 'Cassie' me! I tried to understand your involvement with whatever it was that you and your partner got yourselves into the last time," she raised her voice. "I tried to forgive you for putting our son's life in jeopardy and nearly getting him killed."

"Cassie..." Lionel began before being interrupted.

"Shut up! I thought all of this was over! You told me that it was over, Lionel! Now you tell me that I have to pack up everything and leave with Lee so nothing happens to him." Cassie tried to hold the tears at bay. "I'm going to ask you one time, and you better be honest with me: What the hell is going on?"

Lionel tried to weigh his words carefully so that he didn't reveal too much and put his ex in danger, but he also wanted her to know that the threat was real.

"Alonzo Quinn escaped from WITSEC," he answered.

Cassie froze. Her eyes widened at the revelation. "Alonzo Quinn escaped?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"When?"

"A couple of days ago."

Cassie blindly reached for the chair behind her. Lionel took her arm and guided her so she could sit down. "Are you sure?" Fear threatened to choke her.

Lionel nodded. "Yes."

Cassie studied her ex's face. "You've known longer than that," she accused. "Haven't you?"

"Cassie..."

"HAVEN'T YOU?"

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly.

"And you didn't tell me?" her voice rasped with unshed tears that burned her throat and the back of her eyes.

"I couldn't."

"LIAR!"

"Trust me on this," he pleaded. "Alonzo Quinn stole millions before he went into WITSEC – money that belongs to the mob and HR. The guys after him want him back and they targeted his daughter."

"Quinn has a daughter?"

"We didn't know."

"How? How didn't you know?"

"I don't have time to get into it, Cassie. Just trust me on this. But they want their money, and they want Joss Carter too. They are planning on take her out, along with Quinn and his daughter, and claiming the money. I'm going to stop them."

"How?"

"I have my ways."

"How do you know that they are going to kill Joss Carter?" Cassie asked.

"Because they tried to abduct her mother in broad daylight," Lionel stated. He turned his face to show the bruise on his cheek. "That is how I got this. I was there when it happened."

"Is she okay?"

"I have a friend who has her somewhere safe."

Cassie's hand reached out to touch Lionel's face, then stopped.

"Why us?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Lionel replied honestly. "I do know that I want you and Lee to be safe."

"Will we?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will we ever be safe?" Cassie asked. "Will we ever be able to stop looking over our shoulders for the bad guys who want to seek revenge?"

"I promise you, Cassie, that after this is done, you won't have to worry. Not about anything like this again."

"Sure, Lionel," she scoffed. "I already sleep with one eye open and listen for every creak on the floor boards and wonder who is in the house. I sleep with a gun in my nightstand."

"Cass..." Lionel tried to take her hands in his, but she pulled back.

"Our son was almost murdered by the same thugs you sold your soul to!" Cassie growled, the words hurt to say almost as much as when she realized the truth that her ex-husband had been dirty.

"That was a mistake, and I've paid for it. I'm not that same man anymore," Fusco pleaded earnestly. But in the back of his mind the words Quinn said haunted him. "I'm better than that. You have to believe me."

Cassie shook her head. "I don't know if I can believe you. You lied to me while we were married, and then you lied to me afterward. Lee almost died, and now he and I are in danger. I don't know if I can believe that you've changed."

Lionel grabbed Cassie's hands and held tight. "You have to believe me," he implored. "The guys coming after me and my friends haven't changed – they never will – but I have! I'm not the same guy who hurt you; that man is long gone. I don't drink anymore, and I am a real cop trying to make a difference in a positive way." A couple of tears escaped to run down his cheeks.

Cassie tried to pull her hands away, but Lionel held fast. "Lionel..."

"I lied to you before – so many times, I'm embarrassed to think about it – but I'm not lying to you now. You don't have to believe me, you don't have to like me, but trust me this time. If you don't want to have faith in me as the man you were once married to, have faith in me as a father. I love Lee. And I still love you. I don't care if you don't love me any more. I've found peace that you have moved on, and I'm happy for you. But I would die if anything happens to you and Lee."

"Why couldn't you have said this when we were married?" Cassie wondered.

"I was different then. I was lost. I was drinking too much," Lionel admitted honestly.

"And I should forget all of that and trust you now?"

"Only if you want to. But if you don't want to do it for me, do it for Lee. Please." Lionel blinked quickly, but the tears continued to fall. "Please, Cassie."

Cassie closed her eyes and hung her head as she considered everything her ex had just revealed. She wanted to hate him and yell and scream and tell him to get out and never come back. She wanted to hit him and hurt him as much as he had hurt her in the last few years of their marriage. She wanted to tell him to go to hell and tell him how to go there.

But she couldn't.

She saw the broken hearted man standing before her, holding her hands, and telling her that he was risking everything by telling her to leave and save herself and Lee. There was an honesty there that she hadn't seen since the first few years they had been married. And her heart ached for him. It ached for what they had.

"Okay," she relented. "I'll take Lee and go to my mother's until this is over."

The smile on Lionel's face was genuine. "Thank you, Cassie," he whispered hoarsely. "Thank you."

"What about you?" she wondered as the realization of the moment began to dawn on her. "What if this ends...badly?"

"It won't," Lionel vowed. "I won't let it. It ends for good, this time."

"But...?" Cassie began, but her question was stopped as Lionel put his index finger over her lips.

"Just know that I love you and Lee. And no matter what, I'd move heaven and earth to come for you."

Cassie smiled, but this time it was real. She squeezed Lionel's hands. "Thank you."

"If only I had been this honest with you during our marriage," Lionel mused with the shake of his head.

"But you are now."

"Yeah." Lionel shook his head as he realized the irony of the moment. "Yeah," he repeated, but this time there was sadness to the word.


	33. Chapter 33

_The man behind the curtain is finally revealed, and when you discover who it is, the chapter where Bogle was shot at for making the disgusting remark about Carter will finally make sense. As for Quinn and Finch, they got into it again, and all I could do was sit and type it out._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"What have you found out?" the man in the high back chair asked. Only a couple of lights were on to cast the room in long shadows as the sun outside began to set.

"That Alonzo Quinn used an alias to get on a plane and fly from Arizona to Manhattan."

The man puffed on the cigar. "No shit. That part I know. I want to know where he is."

"We've narrowed it down to Manhattan – or in the vicinity of – and that detective is guarding him."

"I see."

"We were going to take his son and get him to give up Quinn's location..."

"You don't touch Detective Fusco's son."

"We can get Quinn."

"The only thing you'll get is a bullet. No one touches Lee Fusco!"

"Don Grifoni..."

"That is an order!" The Don thundered. His hand shook just enough to drop ash from the cigar on to the expensive oak. "If anything happens to the kid, I will personally take care of you myself."

"If you would just let us take care of Detective Carter..."

"Obviously that bullet yesterday did nothing to slap some sense in to your thick skull. Detective Carter is off limits." Angrily, Don Grifoni chomped on his cigar.

"How else are we supposed to get him and the money?"

Don Grifoni drew the fragrant smoke into his lungs before letting it out to weave around himself and the two men standing on the other side of his desk.

"There are twenty million ways," he pointed out. "You just need to find the right one. And since you lost Quinn, his daughter, and you managed to force Detective Carter into hiding, I'm thinking that you need to find another way." He took another puff. "I would suggest you find the right one before time runs out."

"Bogle is working on it."

"Where is the son of a bitch?" Don Grifoni asked.

"Taking care of some loose ends."

The Don looked around his office and shifted uncomfortably in his char. "I don't trust him. I'm sure that he is two timing us. With who, I don't know. But we need to find out."

"He wants to kill Carter."

"I am well aware of his intentions."

"We could get rid of him; he's already shown he's not capable..."

Don Grifoni waved his hand. "No. No. He's got the credentials to get into places we need to access. We need him," he added reluctantly. "Until we don't. I don't care how you do it, but bring me Alonzo Quinn."

"Yes, Don Grifoni."

"One more thing." Don Grifoni leaned forward. The look on his face was determined. "Understand this: No harm to Detective Carter or her family. On the other hand, should you cross paths with Fusco or the people hiding Quinn's daughter, you may dispose of them. That is my final word."

"Yes."

"You may leave now," he dismissed the men with nothing more than the nod of his head. After the door closed, he leaned back in his chair. Two obstacles were in his way to getting his money: Alonzo Quinn and former Agent Bogle. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed both in order to succeed in his plan, but once it was over, he had no problem disposing of either one. Or anyone else, for that matter.

_Yes, _he thought to himself as he took a long puff of his expensive Cuban cigar, _the blood shed, in the end, to get his reward, would be worth every drop._  
******

"I hope you like peanut butter," Finch announced as he slowly limped to the makeshift prison cell. In his one hand he held a brown paper bag, and in the other he held a large Styrofoam cup. "I also brought you root beer."

"I'm allergic," Quinn replied, but he didn't look up from his task.

"I checked your medical records; I've been assured that you aren't." Finch took the keys from his pants pocket and unlocked the gate. He set the items on the floor. "Considering what you did with breakfast, I thought you might want something a like more simple to clean up should you decide to throw another tantrum."

"I won't eat," Quinn said defiantly.

Finch shrugged. "That is your choice. I can't force you to eat."

"Then why waste my time and yours trying to cater to me?"

"Perhaps, Mr. Quinn, because unlike you, I actually care about my fellow man."

Quinn let out a sarcastic snort. "A truly altruistic person. I'll bet you think you've got your place reserved in heaven."

"I'm not sure if I'm going anywhere after this life," Finch replied honestly, "but I'm sure it will be different than where you are going."

"We're not that different," Quinn announced.

Finch paused. "What do you mean?"

"You and I. We do things in the name of justice, and try to justify our reasons, but we're not really that different when all is said and done. Except where I had the whole police force at my beck and call to keep the peace, you have one thug and a couple of rogue cops."

Finch felt an anger he hadn't experienced in years – not since Nathan Ingram died – and he tried to repress it. His face remained expressionless, but his eyes glittered with hatred.

"How much?" Quinn asked out of the blue.

"What do you mean?"

"How much do you want to let me out of this prison you've constructed? A million? Ten percent? Twenty? Name your price."

"Do you really think you can bribe me?" Finch asked with incredulity, but deep down inside he wasn't surprised in the least, the depths Alonzo Quinn would sink to in getting his way. It had only been a matter of time.

"I call it a 'deal' between two businessmen. You get something and I get something; we both walk away happy," Quinn promised.

"Only your arrogance would lead you to believe I need money so badly that I would betray my friends and let you go," Finch surmised. He wasn't put off by the suggestion, nor was he offended or amused by it. He was disgusted by it. He took a moment to will himself not to betray all he stood for by reaching in and strangling his nemesis to death.

"Only your arrogance would lead _you_ to believe that you wouldn't," Quinn volleyed back in a mocking tone. " I see it in your eyes. Even a man like you has his breaking point."

"I would never take your blood money," Finch spat. "I could be broke and lying in a gutter, starving to death, and I wouldn't take a dime from you. Perhaps you think that you can bribe me and Detective Fusco to aid and abet in your dirty dealings, but it won't happen," he informed in a cold tone.

"Are you bugging my room?" Quinn questioned with some surprise. He looked around as he suddenly felt a hundred eyes upon him.

"Yes. This may come as no surprise, but I don't trust you." Finch would never make an apology to Alonzo Quinn. He would rather die first.

Quinn smiled what he knew was his most charming smile. "Perhaps I could make a deal with the your hired help. I'm sure he would love to break out on his own. Enough money in his pocket could insure that he could name his price..."

"He would rather die than betray what he hold dear," Finch cut Quinn off.

"He is going to die any way," Quinn pointed out without emotion.

"Are you making a threat?" Finch was surprised at the cocky, arrogant attitude of his prisoner. He wondered, not for the first time, if the man had any shame.

Quinn smiled and shook his head. "No threat. That isn't how I run things." He stood up from the table and walked over to the gate. "You can't run a successful business based on threats. As a fellow businessman, you would agree with me." His smile seemed to become more sinister. "No. Threats accomplish nothing productive."

Finch felt his blood run cold. "I am sure you have a point you are trying to make."

"Let me go and I'll save your friend. In the process I'll save my daughter. It's a win-win deal for both of us. Even you can't say no to a deal like that," Quinn offered with sincerity.

Finch didn't have to consider the offer. "No."

"It's a good deal."

"I can't speak on behalf of my friends, but I know they would not accept this deal."

"Even if their lives were on the line?"

"Their lives were on the line before, and they didn't sacrifice their moral beliefs," Finch countered.

"But this time they will die."

"Then they die."

"You can live with that? The men coming after them will stop at nothing to get what they want."

"It's not what I can live with, it's what my friends can live with," Finch replied. "The question should be: Can you live with it?"

"If my daughter dies, I'll see you in hell," Quinn's words were laced with venom.

"At least we agree you are going to hell, Mr. Quinn." Turning on his heel, Finch walked away without a backwards glance.

Angrily, Quinn grabbed the gate and pulled on it. He shook it until his arms hurt and the sharp edge cut into his palms. His anguished cries echoed down the long, empty hallways.

Spent and exhausted from the rant, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He needed to get out. He needed his daughter. He could make his escape tonight. It made the most logical sense. Then he stopped. Now that he knew his room was bugged, there wasn't room for any mistakes. He was sure he could take on the cripple – yeah, that would be a piece of cake – but the dog would be another story. He had to think.

No, he would make his escape when the both of them were gone. Satisfied that he had made a full-proof plan, he smiled.

His stomach rumbled in response. But first he had to eat. Opening the bag, he extracted the sandwich. At least there was grape jam on it, he mused. He could give his warden some credit for looking out for him.

Biting into the bread, Quinn smiled with confidence. He would be gone tomorrow to find his daughter, then they would take the money and run. For good.


	34. Chapter 34

_Nightmares of a past tragedy come back to haunt a beloved character, but it's not who you think._

* * *

**I'd Come For You **

_He felt the impact of the first bullet tear into his abdomen as it him with the force of a Mac truck – and with just as much destruction. A second later the next bullet hit his shoulder and threw him to the ground. Wounded, in pain, and winded, he lay on the cold, wet street and tried to remember where the hell he was._

_His fingers touched the bullet holes. He was hit. Bad – he could tell by the size of the wounds – he should stay and wait for help to arrive – that was the logical thing to do. But he had to find Joss. Where was Joss?_

_Pulling himself painfully across the pavement, he reached blindly for the woman he loved and considered a friend, and called her name. But there was no answer. Where was she?_

"_Joss? Joss?" He heard his raspy voice call out her name, and his hands reached toward where she should be, but he couldn't find her. He saw the blood – so much blood – yet, there was no body. He was sure she had to be somewhere, but where?_

_In the distance, a phone rang loudly – a reminder that time was running out; he had to find her before Simmons did! Where was the help that he knew should be arriving?_

"_Joss? Where are you?" he cried out to the darkness. "Joss! Answer me!"_

_But she didn't answer. No sound but the incessant ringing of the damn telephone. He wanted to make it stop, but it continued as though it was taunting him with the answers he needed to find Joss; all he had to do was answer and let it tell him everything._

_Except his body wouldn't move. No matter how much he willed his legs, they refused to do as they were told. He never felt so helpless in his life._

"John? John, where are you?" Joss' voice whispered from the darkness.

"_Joss, I'm here!" he called back to the darkness. He felt a resurgence to survive!_

"_John...help me." Joss's voice was so weak – as though it was traveling miles to reach him._

_He tried to move, but his body refused to cooperate. _

"_John? Where are you?"_

_He heard the desperation in Joss's voice, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to tell her to hold on, but when he opened his mouth, the words didn't come. What was wrong with him?!_

_Except for the phone ringing, he was alone in the dark. Then he heard the hammer of a gun being pulled back. The sound was almost deafening. He turned his head toward the sound. Then he heard a voice that made his blood run cold._

"_I told you that I would end you."_

_He opened his eyes to see Patrick Simmons standing over him with a gun. He tried to move. He tried to get out of the way, but he couldn't._

"_You thought you could get away," Simmons taunted, his face contorting into demonic expressions to settle on a smile that matched the ice in his eyes. "Tell me where she is!"_

_Mutely, he shook his head. _

"_I'll find her, then I'll kill her! And the 'Man in The Suit' won't be able to stop me."_

_He met the cold, chilling stare of his executioner, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight. He might not be able to move, but would try to protect Joss any way he could._

"_If that's the way you want it..."Simmons lined his target. As his eyes narrowed, he pulled the trigger._

"_John! John! John!"_

_He heard Joss scream his name as the bullets slammed into his body one by one. He felt the white heat tear into his flesh and the blood pour out. So much blood! He tried to scream out in pain, but the life was leaving his body._

"_Tell me where she is!" Simmons demanded and leveled the revolver to perfectly line with Reese's forehead._

_Finally finding his voice, Reese gasped, "Go to hell!" He couldn't physically save Joss, but he wasn't going down without defying his attacker._

_He heard the gun fire and watched in slow motion as the bullet exited the muzzle and traveled toward him. He closed his eyes and waited for the end._

_He heard his name being screamed as the bullet hit and shook his body..._

"JOHN!" Joss called out – her voice just barely above a whisper. "Wake up!"

Jarred back into consciousness, Reese jumped up and out of the chair he had been occupying for his security monitoring. Immediately his hand instinctively reached for his pistol. Unsteady on his feet, he looked around the room for anything out of place. Moonlight poured thru the window into the large bedroom to cast a ghostly glow over everything. Joss looked almost ethereal.

"Where is he?" Reese's eyes darted around out of habit and years of training. He knew the bad guy was lurking somewhere in the shadows just waiting for the right moment to pounce and kill them all.

"Where is who?" Joss asked carefully.

"Simmons. He was here." Reese tried to swallow the fear that was threatening to overwhelm him.

"Simmons is dead, John." She laid her hand on the barrel of the Beretta. "It's okay," she soothed.

"He was going to kill you, Joss," Reese stated, his voice thick with fear and unshed tears.

"He's gone, John,; he's not going to hurt us anymore," she reminded gently. "Put the gun down." Feeling the fight leave his body, Reese closed his eyes and slumped his shoulders. Joss took the pistol and laid it on the table under the window.

"You're alive," he stared in amazement at the woman standing before him. He blinked a couple of times to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

"I am," she confirmed. She lifted his hand in hers and placed it on her cheek.

Reese felt his heart lurch at the feel of her flesh on his. His eyes filled with tears. Joss was alive. His thumb stroked her cheek.

"It was a bad dream, John. Just a bad dream." Joss took his hand in hers. "Come to bed," she invited and pulled him toward the King-sized bed when he hesitated.

"Joss..." he protested. He replayed her statement that she wasn't going to share a bed with him.

"It's okay. I just want to hold you. Let me hold you, John."

Taking off his shoes, Reese lay down on the mattress. Never in his life had he ever felt so helpless or alone. He willed himself not to give in to self-pity, but with each second that passed, he found himself slowly losing the fight. He knew the dream was a premonition and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He felt arm go around him. For a second he tensed up, then relaxed as Joss held him as close as she could with only one arm. Slowly he came back to reality as he felt each breath she took and she held him tight in her protective embrace.

"Go to sleep, John," Joss whispered close to his ear. "I'll be here when you wake up," she assured him.

Reese took her hand in both of his and held tight. He wanted to tell her that he was supposed to be protecting her – not the other way around, but he could feel exhaustion slowly overtake his body and mind. And his tongue was too thick with sleep to protest. He closed his eyes and felt his breathing become steadied and laboured.

"You're not alone," was the last thing he heard before he fell into a dreamless sleep.


	35. Chapter 35

_Here is the much anticipated update. It's all beginning to snowball!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, but the forest creatures were slowly coming back to life. Thru the large Evergreens the sun streaked to cast an ethereal feeling over the flora and fauna. But Reese paid no mind to that as he stood at the edge of the perimeter. He was playing the nightmare over in his head and tried to figure what it meant.

The snap of a twig brought him back to the moment, but he didn't reach for his gun. Sniffing the air, he didn't turn around, but he slowly relaxed.

"You left me," Joss chastised softly as she took her place beside her protector.

"I had to find a place where I could think," Reese replied. His eyes stayed ahead and watched for anything out of the norm.

"Is that why you are outside getting hypothermia?"

A mockingbird sang his song and the wind rustled the leaves in the trees. Reese stayed quiet. Although the muscle in his cheek twitched.

"It must have been a pretty bad dream," Joss observed. "You were pretty upset. Want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about," Reese replied in a voice strained by emotions he was trying to keep inside.

Joss lightly touched his arm. "I think there is plenty to talk about, John. You were ready to shoot anything that moved," she pointed out. "You had me scared for a moment. What happened?"

"Nothing."

Joss shook her head. "You can't lie to me, John. I know we haven't exactly been communicating recently, but I want to rectify that. Tell me what happened."

"You wouldn't understand."

"And what makes you an authority on that?" She tried to keep her temper at bay. "I was shot too. I was bleeding to death on the sidewalk that night, John. I almost lost my life trying to defend you from Simmons," she replied hotly.

"Joss, it's..."

"It's what, John? Your fault? You're feeling, what? Guilt? Remorse? Are you going to crawl back into a bottle again? Tell me what is going on." Joss tugged on Reese's arm. "Let me in."

Reese spun to face her. "I almost lost you, Joss! That's what!" he shouted loud enough to cause the birds in the nearby trees to fly for safety. "I watched as you were gunned down like a dog in the middle of the street and I couldn't do anything because I was unarmed! I was helpless!"

"It wasn't your fault," Joss replied.

"The hell it wasn't, Joss! I made a vow to protect you and I couldn't."

"But you are now," she observed.

"For how long, Joss? Between the three of us, we have sixty rounds. The men coming after us will be armed, but they'll have reserves. Then what? I can't fight a bullet," he replied bitterly.

"No one is asking you to, John."

"I am. I'm the one asking myself to do this."

"You're not Superman."

"No, I'm not," he agreed bitterly. "I'm just a man in a suit."

"Oh, now you're feeling sorry for yourself."

"Facing the grim reality that I might not be able to protect you. I can't lose you, Joss."

Joss reached up and touched Reese's cheek with her good hand. "You're not going to lose me, John. Not if I have any say in the matter."

Reese met her eyes. Contained in his blue eyes was so much sadness, Joss nearly wept. Stroking his cheek, she felt the stubble under her palm.

"I almost lost you twice," he reminded her.

Joss' smile was small. "Almost only counts in horse-shoes and hand grenades," she half-joked. "Didn't you know? I know you and Shaw will do your best to protect us. I have no doubt in that."

Reese covered Joss' hand with his. "You once told me that if anything happened to me, you would hate me forever."

Joss' voice was choked with emotion as she replied, "Yeah, I did. But I'll also love you forever, too."

"I don't deserve you, Joss."

"No, you don't. But I'll take you anyway." Standing on tip-toes, she pressed her lips to his for a gentle kiss.

Wrapping his arms around her, Reese pulled her closer to him – careful not to injure her wrist – and deepened the kiss. A sense of peace came over him to make him feel that no matter what happened, he would forever be bonded with the woman he loved. If he could stayed wrapped in her arms for the rest of his life, he wouldn't object.

"Hey guys," Shaw's voice interrupted the moment. Guiltily, the pair pulled away. "Nice to see that you've decided to kiss and make up, but we've got a bigger problem right now."

His senses suddenly went on high alert as Reese asked, "What's wrong?"

"Ray's taken a turn for the worst."

"A turn for the worst?" Joss asked. Her gaze jumped from Shaw to Reese. "What do you mean?"

"Either we get her to a hospital or she dies," Shaw replied with finality.  
*****

"Are you sure that Detective Fusco is going to lead us to Quinn?" Bogle asked Womack.

"I can almost guarantee it," Womack boasted with bravado. "I overheard him talking to someone this morning. I couldn't make out exactly what they were talking about, but I'd bet my paycheck that it had something to do with that bastard Quinn."

"But what makes you think that he is going to lead us to Quinn?" Bogle demanded. "We need to find that money before we end up taking a permanent dirt nap."

"Fusco is predictable as the day is long. He won't let us down." Womack leaned back in his chair. A confident smile broke on his face.

"Then what?"

"Once you find out where Quinn is, I don't care. His fat ass has been a thorn in my side since the day he arrived at the 8th. You have my permission to kill him and put him out of my misery."

"You're giving me permission to kill a cop? Won't that get a little messy?" Bogle wondered.

"I'll take care of the paperwork on this end, Agent," Womack assured quickly. "You just make sure that whatever happens occurs in the process of protecting that scumbag Quinn. Capisce?"

"Sure. Whatever. You're the boss."

"I _am_ the boss. Don't you forget it." Womack slammed the receiver onto the base. That fat fuck Fusco was almost out of his hair for good.

"When he's gone for good, I'm doing a fucking Irish jig in the middle of Wall Street," he vowed to himself.  
****

Finch limped slowly up the hallway. His uneven footsteps echoed off the walls as he approached where Quinn was being held. Stopping within a foot of the gate, he looked with disinterest at his captive.

"I need to step out for a while," Finch announced.

Quinn looked up from the book he was reading to cast a disinterested gaze at the man he despised. "I'll be sure to remember that should anyone call looking for you," he remarked dryly.

"I won't be gone long."

"And you are telling me this...why?"

"Because Bear won't be here to guard you, and I want to make sure you remain on your best behaviour," Finch replied.

"You think I'll escape?" Quinn acted insulted by the accusation.

"I think you'll do whatever you can to take any opportunity to flee."

"And here I thought we had established some kind of trust," Quinn mocked with unveiled condescension.

"The day I trust you, Mr. Quinn..." Finch left the remainder of the sentence unsaid. His hand gripped the leash tighter as Bear began to growl. "I'll be returning shortly. Detective Fusco will be in charge of your surveillance until then. Try to behave yourself." Turning on his heel, Finch commanded Bear to follow.

Quinn sat quietly at the desk and waited for the footstep to fade away. Then he put his plan into action.

The seconds passed into minutes, and he could feel the sweat run down his face as he desperately tried to pick the lock. Swearing under his breath, his fingers fumbled numerous times. He had to get out.

Wiping the sweat away with the back of his hand, Quinn took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried again. A second later he heard the click as the mechanism gave way. Almost afraid to breathe, he pulled the gate open.

He was free!

Looking at his watch, he realized there wasn't a moment to lose. He needed to get a car and then find his daughter. The locations where she was being hidden were too numerous to list, but if he could find the location of where the crash occurred, then he could narrow it down.

Hurrying thru the hallways, he tried to find where the bespectacled wordsmith kept his computer. Turning a corner, he nearly jumped for joy when he saw the computers and hard-drives.

Was it luck or chance that the idiot had left his computer logged on? He didn't have time to analyze it all as he tried to find answers. Sitting down, his fingers flew over the keys with expert ease to find the answers he needed.

When the location came up on the screen, he grabbed the pen and wrote it down. He would decipher the coordinates later, he figured to himself. Right now he needed to get the hell out of Dodge before the cavalry arrived. Ripping the note off the pad, he jumped up and ran out of the office.

Down the hallways he sped. He nearly jumped down the stairs as he made his get away. He could see the front door of the library. He wanted to dance.

Across the marble floors he side-stepped the books strewn haphazardly until he was at the heavy oak doors. Pulling the handle, he tugged the door open and stepped out into the sunlight.

FREEDOM!

Quinn looked around. The coast was clear, but he needed to get a car. His eyes darted around the area. Nothing. He groaned to himself and swore under his breath. Where was a car when he needed one?!

Up the street, one block away, a car pulled up. The driver emerged from the vehicle before disappearing into the nearby store. Yes! That was his chance.

With quick steps, Quinn started forward before he was pulled to an abrupt stop.

"Good try, you son of a bitch," Fusco bit out and turned Quinn around. "Time to get you back where you-" The detective's words were cut off as something cuffed him on the back of the head. He crumpled to the ground silently. Stunned by the sudden event, Quinn looked up with fear at the man who had just assaulted Fusco.

"Hello, Quinn," Bogle greeted without warmth. "We meet again."


	36. Chapter 36

_Ah, my man Fusco. I'll leave it there. Enjoy!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

His head hurt and there was something warm running down his neck, but as Lionel slowly came back to the land of the living, he realized he was alive, and that was a good thing. He tried to move his hands but found them shackled behind his back. That, he surmised, was not a good thing. Neither was the fact that he felt as though he was flying.

With a groan he opened his eyes. "What the hell is going on?" he snapped angrily.

"Well, look who's awake," Bogle mocked, his eyes meeting Lionel's in the rear-view mirror. "Did you have a good nap, Detective?"

"Well, if it isn't Dumb, Dumber, and Asshole," Lionel replied with equal mocking. "Since you got what you wanted, you can let me go."

"At least you still have your sense of humour despite my best attempt to squelch it."

"Untie me and I'll show you what I still have." Lionel tried to move his hands, but the cuffs were on too tight. _Shit!_

Bogle's chuckle was short and dry. "That isn't going to happen."

"Where are we going?"

"_We_? _We_ are going to have Quinn take us to his daughter, and after we've eliminated all of you – your bitch partner included – you're all going to take a long, much needed rest out in Oyster Bay," Bogle said confidently. The man in the passenger seat nodded in agreement.

Lionel was unimpressed. "You think that scares me? I've heard that threat a dozen times; you'll have to get up early in the morning and think a lot harder if you want to scare me."

"I don't expect you to be scared."

"I hope you don't expect me to care."

"Prideful up to the very end. It's going to be my sincere pleasure to put that pride in the ground along with your fat ass," Bogle taunted.

"Simmons and Peterson thought the same thing too; maybe I can arrange it so you can ask them how that worked out," Lionel shot back.

Bogle looked at his partner. They shared a look that was not lost on Lionel or Quinn.

"Keep it up, Detective," Bogle warned. "I don't mind taking you out to Oyster Bay right now. I heard your old partner in crime Jimmy Stills is reserving a spot for you."

Lionel considered a response, but held back. Unlike the last time, he didn't have anything in his favour. There were two – possibly three – of them and only one of him. But he could play the game if it meant he would win in the end.

Quinn cast as jaundiced look at his nemesis sitting beside him. "What are you grinning about?"

"That you're going to get yours," Lionel replied confidently.

"You do realize that you're going to die, too, right?"

"You get to go first."

"If you had just taken my offer..."

"Eh. You mean turn on my friends? I'm a lot of things, but I'm not you."

"You'll never learn, will you, detective?" Quinn almost sounded remorseful.

"If I didn't have these cuffs on, I'd finish the job for these two assholes," Lionel smirked. "And I'd do it with pleasure."

"Cocky to the very end."

"Better than being a bastard."

"Hey!" Bogle raised his voice. "If you two girls want to stop bickering back there and let me concentrate on the road, I'd appreciate it. If not, I'll be more than happy to stop this car and crack some heads." He reached over and turned the volume up on the radio. The interior of the sedan was filled with the falsetto sound of Frankie Valli.

Lionel winced as the sharp noise assaulted his eardrums and added to the throbbing already in his head.

"Do you mind turning that down?" Lionel raised his voice to speak over the music.

"Why?"

"I'm trying to think here."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you don't appreciate good music," Bogle sneered.

"I appreciate good music," Lionel replied. "It's just that I don't believe a man should be hitting those notes unless he's been kneed in the sack."

"Too bad. The music stays on." Bogle turned the knob to increase the volume.

Lionel and Quinn turned to look at one another silently before turning to look out the passenger windows.  
****

Finch knew something was amiss the moment he approached the library. Actually, the way Bear was literally turning himself inside out was a better indicator.

Pulling his master over to the spots on the sidewalk, Bear started barking loudly.

"_Stil!"_ Finch commanded firmly. Immediately the canine stood at attention, but his nose still twitched.

Finch looked closely at the red stain on the concrete. There was no doubt in his mind that it was blood, but whose?

A small shape by the edge of the wall of the library caught his eye. Too far down for him to bend over and pick up, he turned to look at Bear.

"_Apport!" _

Bear walked over to the object and picked it up in his teeth. Lifting his head, he offered it to his master. Once Finch opened his hand, he dropped it.

Finch looked down, but it took another second to realize that he was holding a detective badge. "Oh, no!" he breathed as he put the pieces together.

"Bear, _heir_!"

Quickly the pair hurried into the library. Climbing the stairs as quickly as he dared, Finch hoped that he hadn't arrived too late.  
*****

"How bad is she?" Reese asked Shaw.

"Without a CAT scan, I can only guess. But it's possible that the car crash really did some damage to her." Shaw didn't want to tell him that she had seen too many people with slight head injuries walk into the ER only to pass away from something more serious.

"I'm okay," Joss protested. "I was in the car, too."

"You bled out, Joss," Shaw comforted the best she could considering her bedside manner sucked. "You released the pressure."

"It doesn't make sense," Joss groused and looked down at the young lady she swore she could never feel any compassion for, and felt her heart squeeze painfully.

"That is why we need to get her to the hospital."

"We'll take her in the car," Reese offered and went to pick up the unconscious woman lying on the bed.

"Don't move her!" Shaw ordered sharply. "We can't transport her in the car."

"Are you suggesting we Medi-vac her out?"

"We don't have a choice."

"They'll find us," Joss said.

Reese's phone rang. Relaxing just briefly that his mentor once again had perfect timing, he hit the "Talk" button and answered, "Harold, we need you."

"No time for that, Mr. Reese," Finch interrupted his friend. His fingers danced over the keyboard as he tried to pinpoint the exact location of Detective Fusco and Alonzo Quinn. "We have a problem."

Reese looked at Joss and Shaw. "We have a problem here, too. Alonzo Quinn's daughter has taken a turn for the worse and we need to get her to a hospital," he stated. "Unless yours tops that, we need you to help us get the hell out of here before she dies."

"I'm afraid that Alonzo Quinn has escaped," Finch revealed his news.

"Escaped?! What do you mean Alonzo Quinn has 'escaped'?"

"That's not important, Mr. Reese. What's important is that his life and Detective Fusco's may be in jeopardy."

Reese paused. His eyes met with Joss'. It was as though neither had to ask the question that was on their minds.

"What happened to Fusco?" Joss asked. Her breath caught in her chest as the thought of her partner's life being in danger.

"Bear found blood on the sidewalk and Detective Fusco's shield lying not to far away. I'm going to assume that the same men who injured him may have taken him and Alonzo Quinn."

Not a word was spoken as the trio standing beside the bed looked at one another.

Finch held up the notepad and inspected the impressions. "And if I were to make an educated guess as to what may happen next, I would say that they are heading your way."


	37. Chapter 37

_Fusco has given me time off to rest and figure out where I'm going with my writing – or at least he  
tried. But how was he to know that I would be dealing with a bad case of bronchitis while he's getting tortured? My poor little life-sized Lego man is bound and determined to be defiant to the end, all the while protecting his friends from the bad guys. I am sure you'll be wincing and cheering for Lionel as was I. Let me know what you think._

* * *

I'd Come For You

The mid-day sun shone thru the holes in the walls of the warehouse to capture the stray dust particles dancing on the small breeze. Attracted by the smell of blood and sweat, the flies buzzed around waiting for their chance to partake in a meal.

Lionel wasn't sure as to the exact location, but he would bet it was in the middle of nowhere. And if the dank, musty smell in the air was a good indicator, he would bet money that the building was abandoned. No chance of anyone coming to rescue them, he thought to himself – right before the butt of the gun slammed up against his face. He could feel the inside of his cheek split open as the taste of blood coated his tongue.

"Where is she?" the man demanded.

"Where is who?" Lionel stupidly asked. He could play the game as well as anyone. And at this point, he had nothing to lose. A second later, the butt hit him again. His head jerked back sharply, and he swore for a second he actually saw birds flying above his head.

"Your bitch partner."

Lionel didn't bother to shake his head. He wouldn't give his captors the satisfaction of knowing that they rung his bell pretty good. Turning his head, his blue eyes glared defiantly at his attacker. "I don't know who you're talking about."

The butt hit his cheek, and Lionel was pretty sure he was going to need stitches to close the wound. But it didn't matter. Nothing and no one was going to make him give up Carter or his friends. The taste of iron rich blood coated his tongue.

"Don't play stupid."

Lionel spat the wad of blood to the ground. It hit the concrete, but some of it splattered on his attacker's shoe. He took perverse pleasure in it.

"Who said I'm playing?" Lionel mocked. A satisfied grin danced on his lips.

The attacker looked to Bogle. "I thought you said he knew where to find that bitch?"

"That's what Womack told me."

Lionel gave a sardonic laugh. "Womack?" Every muscle in his body ached from the jerking as he tried to contain his amusement. "You believed that lying sack of shit? He wouldn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. He'd betray his own grandmother to further his criminal career."

"I believe him when he says I can put a bullet in your head," the man said with finality.

The laughing stopped as Lionel became serious. "So, why are you trying to beat me to death instead of putting me out of my misery?" he challenged.

"Because we need to find your bitch partner. She has what we need."

Lionel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "She has a first name: It's 'Detective'. Use it."

"She's a bitch."

"Call her that one more time," Lionel growled, his voice low and threatening. "I guarantee you'll regret it." Something in his eyes caused the man to pull back and turn away.

"I'm not getting anywhere with him," the man said in frustration.

"Why do you need her?" Lionel asked point blank. "You got Quinn." He jerked his head toward the man sitting opposite of him. "You got me. That should be enough."

"You don't get it, do you?"

Lionel was stupefied by the question. "Get what? What am I missing?"

The man turned his head to look at Quinn. "Tell him."

"Tell me what?" Lionel pulled against his restraints as anger coursed thru him. Quinn remained quiet. "Tell me what, you son of a bitch?"

Quinn smirked. "You don't..."

"As God is my witness, you tell me what I need to know, or I'll personally rip your head off myself!" Lionel barked.

The seconds ticked by as the room fell silent. Lionel tried to blink back the sweat/blood mixture running down his forehead to burn his eyes. All the while he could hear his heart beat painfully in his chest.

"I don't have the information," Quinn stated flatly.

"Where is it?" Lionel demanded.

"I gave it to my daughter."

Lionel tried to spring from his chair, but was held back. "You worthless scumbag! You murdering asshole! You set your daughter up – and my partner, too – because of your fucking greed!"

"It was for the greater good."

"Greater good?! Your daughter could be dead, but all you can do is sit there and say it was for the greater good? Are you fucking out of your mind?!" Lionel raged. He didn't care if the bad guys pumped one in him and left him for dead. He didn't care if he ripped his own arms off trying to get out of the chair. All he wanted was to wrap his hands around Quinn's throat and choke the shit out of him.

"And you know where they are," Bogle said with smugness.

Lionel looked up. A blank look of confusion was on his face. "I don't know where they are."

"You're lying."

"Call it what you want, but I don't know where they are."

"You've been on the phone with someone – someone who knows where your partner is. Tell us where she is."

"I don't know."

Bogle was unimpressed. "He knows. Make him talk."

Inwardly, Lionel felt fear grab him deep in his gut. He felt his stomach tie into knots and his blood run cold as he looked into the eyes of the men who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. _It's like deja vu,_ he thought to himself. But unlike the first time he was tortured, he would disappear, never to be found.

_But at least Quinn would be dead,_ he comforted himself.

The man stood behind Lionel and jerked his hand roughly. "I heard you've been in this situation before," there was no sympathy in the man's tone.

"That's the story of my life," Lionel quipped tongue in cheek. "Been there, done that."

"Then you know what's coming next." A second later the sound of a bone breaking filled the room.  
******

Joss sat on the side of the full-sized bed and pressed the cool compress against Ray's feverish forehead. With each minute that passed, she found herself feeling less animosity and more compassion for the young woman who lay helpless. They had both been victims of Alonzo Quinn – but Ray, more so. She was his flesh and blood.

"Mommy," Ray rasped. Her head thrashed on the pillow, but her eyes stayed closed. "Mommy..."

Joss dipped the cloth in the cool water, wrung it out, and wiped Ray's face. "Shhh..." she comforted. "It will be okay."

"I don't want to die," Ray whispered.

"You're not going to die," Joss assured the young woman.

"He sent me," Ray babbled almost incoherently.

Joss paused. Between the concussion, possible cheekbone fracture, and fever, Joss knew Ray had to be delirious. But that she had come back to a level of consciousness had to be a good sign, right?

"Sent you? Where did he send you?" she asked encouragingly. It wasn't going to do anyone any good if she tried to interrogate. She needed to approach the moment with kid gloves.

"Information. Told me to keep it. Don't tell anyone."

Joss stiffened. Was it possible that they had been set up? No, she told herself. Ray had been running for her life, and the men after her had beaten her grandmother almost to death. They were after Alonzo Quinn. Had this all been for naught? Had they been set up?

Joss set the cloth on the nightstand and leaned in close. "Where is it, Ray?"

"Mommy..."

"Listen to me, Ray," Joss tried to keep her voice steady and calm. "The information, where is it?"

"He'll kill me...kill her."

Joss realized she was going to need a new tactic to get the information. God forgive her forgive her for what she was about to do, but it was a matter of life or death. She took Ray's hand in hers and tried to give her comfort.

"Ray, it's Mommy. You're safe."

Ray tried to lick her parched lips. "Mommy. He's bad."

"I know. I know. Where is the information?"

"I..."

"Tell me, baby. I can stop him."

Ray's babbling stopped as her head lolled against the pillow. Her breathing was shallow but steady. Whatever energy she had was sapped by her moment of consciousness. But a clue had been given. But which clue, and where was it?

Joss hurried over to the chair where Ray's clothes had been thrown haphazardly. Quick but determined, she searched the pockets until she came across an envelope addressed to her charge. Opening it, she pulled the letter out. Her eyes scanned Alonzo Quinn's elegant script, searching for answers.

Finding nothing, she flipped the paper over. Frustrated, she held the letter up. Nothing. No secret code to tell her what she needed to know. Picking up the envelope, she started to shove the letter back inside, then stopped.

Noticing something resembling handwriting along the inside seam of the opening, she pulled it open wider. In faint pencil were numbers and directions in longitude and latitude. BINGO!

"Thank you, Ray," she whispered. If they got thru this alive, she finally had the final nail to put in Quinn's coffin to send him away for life. No more WITSEC protection and living under an alias. No, he would finally get his.

A knock on the door made her look up.

"Come in," she invited. Reese stepped in to the room and closed the door. "Where's Shaw?"

"Doing a perimeter check. There is no way of landing a helicopter on the property. Not with the trees so close to the house." He nodded toward Ray. "How is she?"

"The fever is still ravaging her. I'm not sure about the concussion, though. A 2nd degree concussion is bad..." she sighed. "But it could be worse. If she lapses into a coma..." Joss didn't want to think about her star witness not making it. She needed Ray's testimony. That is why they needed to get to a hospital. And lately, every step forward seemed to be two steps back. But not anymore.

"We'll get out of here, Joss. I promise." He looked down at the paper in Joss' hands. "What's that?" he inquired.

Joss smiled. "The one thing that will guarantee we walk out of here alive." She handed it over for Reese to scan. "Our ace in the hole."


	38. Chapter 38

_Right or wrong, this is how the characters dictated the chapter._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Sitting in the living room, Paul tried to concentrate on the newspaper, but the words just seemed to blur into one giant mess. Sighing, he folded it and set it on the floor. He tried to comfort himself that there was nothing really happening in the world, so he wasn't missing much of anything.

No, he told himself, it's not that. The news about Joss had knocked the breath out of his body and almost dropped him to the floor. Her life was in danger and there was nothing he could do to help her. He wanted to drop everything to run out and be with her, but in his heart he knew that she wouldn't have appreciated it. She would want him to take care of their son. But it still hurt to know that his hands were tied.

Not that Taylor was appreciative, either, of the sacrifice he was making. Since the horrible outburst, the teen had locked himself in the bedroom for the past two days – not even poking his head out when Paul had knocked on the door to tell him that it was time to eat.

Paul leaned his head back and tried to rationalize the mind of a teenage boy. Hell, he had been in Taylor's shoes and thought he knew everything. Answers to impossible questions? Yeah, he had them! Solutions to insolvable problems? He had what the world needed!

Then he joined the military and found out that he didn't know one damn thing about life. The castle he had built was revealed to have a foundation of sand. One day he was boasting to his friends how much he knew, and the next he was in dead cockroach position on the floor in a barracks in the summer in Alabama!

He had come a long way since those days. He got his degree, got advanced, got married – and divorced – became a parent, and along the way he learned hard lessons about life. Until war happened. He watched as friends were killed or blown apart by bombs. He had watched lives end – one way or the other – and it had destroyed his innocence. He had hit rock bottom when Joss kicked him out of her life. And it had nearly killed him. Drowning himself in a bottom of rot gut, he tried to end his life. Without his son and wife, who was he?

Then he found the light. It had been so simple that he had nearly missed it, but his answer had come in the form of a badly burned, double amputee who had nothing but a positive outlook on life. The next day, Paul went to the VA and begged for help.

It hadn't been easy. No, it had been hell, but he took each day as it came and he bettered himself. He didn't ponder and examine the setbacks; he tried to keep his eye on the goal of bettering himself. And he had. But now, as he sat in the living room of a safe-house, and his son was locked in a bedroom, he wondered where he had gone wrong. He closed his eyes and began repeating his Twelve Steps.

Slowly he began to find the peace which had been eluding him. He let out his breath and found his nerves begin to calm. He was still angry, but he was no longer upset. And now it was time to talk to his son.

Pushing himself up from the chair, he made his way down the narrow hallway to the bedroom door. Giving a courtesy knock on the wood, he didn't wait for an invite before turning the knob.

"Taylor," he called out to the figure lying prone on the bed with a pillow over his head. There was no answer. "We need to talk, son."

Taylor didn't move. Nor did he acknowledge his father's presence. Paul sighed.

"Okay. I get it. You're angry. You think you're entitled to that anger and it's justified. Maybe you're right. I don't know. I wasn't there when you needed me, and I can't begin to understand all the anguish you've experienced. I won't even pretend to put myself in your shoes."

Stony silence was the only response. Paul continued.

"I let you down. I can't say I'm sorry enough to take away the hurt and pain I caused you and your mother. For the rest of my life I'm going to make it up to the both of you. Believe me on that. But what you are doing – this punishing of your mother..." Paul shook his head as he tried to make sense of Taylor's actions. "Your mother deserves respect.

"Look, you don't have to like her. There is no law that says you have to love her. But you do have to respect her and all she has done for you. There is anger inside of you," Paul observed. "And I know this anger because I've had it too. It will eat you and destroy everything you've built for yourself. And the sad part is, that no matter how much you think you are justified doing the things you do, you will never be happy."

"Your mother took an oath to protect the lives of others who can't protect themselves. That is her job," Paul pointed out matter of factly. "She loves her job, but that doesn't mean that she loves you any less. You will always be her child. But if you shut her out, push her away in a fit of anger, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

Taylor shifted and Paul took that as a positive sign.

"The man who owns this safe-house, called me. Your mother's life is in danger. Apparently Alonzo Quinn escaped and made his way back here."

Taylor lifted the pillow to look at his father. His eyes were wide with shock as he processed the information concerning Joss.

"Alonzo Quinn escaped?" Taylor croaked. His heart beat fast out of fear at the thought that the nightmare he had hoped had been long buried was now coming back to haunt. Would they ever be free of that evil man?

"He did," Paul confirmed.

"Where is he?" Taylor whispered.

"I don't know. All I do know is that the men who want your mother dead have captured him and Detective Fusco."

Taylor swallowed and tried to process the news. His stomach roiled. His eyes searched his father's face for any clue that this was just a cruel joke to make him pay for the way he had acted the other day. Yet, there was nothing but sadness in Paul's eyes.

Paul watched as a wide range of emotions ran across Taylor's face. He wanted to reach out and comfort his son and tell him that everything was going to be alright and that they were going to make it thru this together. But deep down inside he knew those were just empty words. He couldn't predict the future.

"Why?" Taylor croaked. "Why are you telling me this?"

The reaction he had hoped for was not coming. Paul felt his heart break as he realized it was long past due, and thought it might back-fire, Taylor was in desperate need of a wake-up call.

"Maybe I shouldn't have told you, but I thought since the way you acted the other day that you might like to know that your wish might be coming true sooner than you thought."

Turning on his heel, Paul walked out of the room and closed the door soundly behind him.


	39. Chapter 39

_Everything is slowly but surely coming to a head. I promise._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"Finch, I need you to put your machine to work and tell me what these numbers mean," Reese spoke into the phone.

"What numbers, Mr. Reese?" Finch asked, his fingers poised over the keyboard.

"Joss discovered a series of numbers written on the inside of the envelope Alonzo Quinn sent his daughter. I'm sure it has something to do with the money he's stolen," Reese said. "Could be a safe deposit account or routing number, I'm guessing."

"No doubt," Finch replied dryly. At this point in the game, he wouldn't put anything past the man. "I'm ready when you are, Mr. Reese."

Reese held up the envelope to the sun. "47042318303046," he recited clear and precise.

"Give me a moment," Finch cautioned. The seconds ticked by at what seemed a snail's pace. "Oh," he breathed in surprise and wonderment.

Reese pulled the phone closer to his ear. "What is it, Harold?"

"Those numbers aren't for a security box; they are coordinates."

"Coordinates?" Reese repeated in surprise. "Do you mean like longitude and latitude?"

"Precisely." Finch looked closely at the results his trusty machine had given him. "And if this is correct, this lands us in Lucerne, Switzerland."

Reese was dumbfounded by the revelation. "Switzerland?"

"Which would make a great choice for Alonzo Quinn," Finch gave an off hand compliment as he continued to investigate the new lead.

"How do you figure, Finch?" Reese tried to make sense of the information, but nothing was clicking.

"Overseas and far away enough from spying eyes."

"Let me guess: This is something you would have done?"

"Heh. If I was going to hide a large amount of money I had stolen from criminals, Switzerland is the last place I would have chosen, Mr. Reese." Finch raised an eyebrow. "Of course I wouldn't have stolen money from criminals," he stated succinctly.

"But Zurich would be a better choice," Reese argued.

"Zurich is too obvious," Finch pointed out. "The first choice people would assume is that he hid the money in a Swiss bank. It doesn't seem to be the case here."

"He didn't?"

Finch's fingers flew over the keyboard. The Machine did it's best to produce the much needed information. But even the best of technology could only do so much. The information filled the screen as it was received.

Finch's eyes scanned the screen as the information came rolling in. "Nothing indicates that he did."

"Maybe the Machine is on the fritz."

"I can assure you, Mr. Reese, that the Machine is working properly," Finch sighed. Something was wrong and he couldn't put it finger on it. It seemed as though he was playing a chess game with one missing piece. He would find out what Alonzo Quinn was up to, he vowed to himself. Not matter what system he had to hack to do so.

"Any word on Fusco?" Reese asked about his friend. He knew Joss was worried for her partner, and deep down inside, so was he. But they weren't going to be able to counter the attack by the bad guys if they wasted all of their energies on something they had no control over.

"I've been unable to locate him."

"He's somewhere," Reese surmised. Lionel was like a fungus, he mused to himself. Not easy to get rid of, and he had pretty much grown on the team. They would be lost without him.

"I'll keep trying," Finch vowed. No matter what had transpired between them, Finch held a bit of affection and respect for the corrupt detective turned good.

"Thanks, Finch." Reese disconnected the call and replayed the conversation over in his mind. Something was wrong. The location where Quinn hid the money didn't make sense. But nothing about the case made one bit of sense. And no matter how he tried to look at it, something was wrong. He didn't know what, and it was driving him crazy that he couldn't put his finger on the one exact thing that had his feelers on alert. He hated being stuck in limbo waiting for the bad guys to make their move. He wanted the action so he could finish this bullshit once and for all.

Restless, he paced the spacious living room as his brain tried to find the missing piece. Someone was behind the attacks. Someone wanted Joss and Fusco dead – along with Quinn. The question was who?

He needed to get out and breathe. He needed to clear his head.

Yanking the heavy, steel reinforced front door open, he stepped out on the porch. The sunshine nearly blinded him, but he didn't care. He hurried down the steps.

"Hey!" Shaw called out from her secluded perch. "Where are you going?"

"Out," was Reese's simple reply. He readied his weapon by securing a round in the chamber.

"Out, where?"

Reese shoved the gun into the back waistband of his tailored slacks. "I'm going for a walk."

"What do I tell Joss if she asks about you?" Shaw wondered. There were too many emotions emitting from her partner for her to try and deal with, so she tried to concentrate on the moment at hand.

Reese shrugged. "Tell her I'm doing a perimeter check for vermin." His tone left no room for argument. His long strides helped him clear the short front yard to the wooded area. He was gone from sight before Shaw could form a reply.

"Just don't shoot any skunks by mistake," she muttered under her breath.  
******

There was a slight ringing in Lionel's left ear, and his left eye was nearly swollen shut. Twice he had tried to open it, but the pain was too excruciating, so he gave up. The blood from the cut on his face had finally clotted so it no longer ran down to burn his good eye. But now the wound itched, and the flies were landing on him. How badly he wanted to reach up and shoo them away, but his hands were still tied behind his back.

Then again, it wasn't as though he could do anything; he had no feeling in his right hand. Considering they broke every finger – including his thumb – maybe that was a good thing. Yet, through all the torture, he never broke down and told them what they wanted to know. No, Lionel thought to himself, he was smarter than that; he was a lot of things, but he was no turncoat.

"You should have told them," Quinn spoke up from his corner of the room.

"Excuse me? Are you talking to me?"

"You should have told them what they wanted to know," Quinn elaborated his earlier statement. "That's what I would have done."

Despite the throbbing pain in his head, Lionel turned to look at his enemy. "I'm not you."

Quinn shrugged indifferently at the remark. "Would have saved you a lot of pain."

"You think this is pain?" Lionel sneered. "When I get hold of you, I'll show you pain."

Quinn snorted and shook his head. "What is it about you and arrogance? You'll put your pride before your friends."

"I don't know. What is it about _you _and arrogance?" Lionel threw back. "You would sell out your pride _and_ your friends."

"Just give them what they want, Detective. Save yourself and your friends. Let's get this over with."

"What's in it for you?" Lionel inquired casually, but his bullshit detector was on high alert. Until Alonzo Quinn was dead and in his grave, he was not going to chance anything until his friends were back safe and sound.

"The chance to start over."

"You had that chance in WITSEC," Lionel pointed out. "But you had to throw it away because of greed."

"Greed is not a bad thing, Lionel," Quinn pointed out confidently.

Lionel felt his heart race as his blood boiled hot. "My first name is Detective; use it."

"Lionel..."

"Look, you son of a bitch, let's get one thing straight: I'm not your friend. And if I get out of here alive, I'm going to make sure I pound that fact home," he snarled.

"Violence is never the answer," Quinn replied in a placid tone.

"Didn't stop you from trying to assassinate my partner in cold blood," Lionel shot back. "It didn't stop you from killing a lot of innocent people. Violence and money. The two go hand in hand. That is what this is all about. And your greed," Lionel finished.

"Just give them what they want. If not for yourself, for your friends. Save your friends. Quinn pointed out matter of factly. "If you don't, they are going to kill you,"

Lionel shrugged. "So? Why should you care?" he asked rhetorically. Despite the pain it caused, he chuckled. "Ah. Now I get it. You don't want to die. What a fucking hypocrite."

"We all have a purpose," Quinn argued.

"We do? Enlighten me, please. What is _your_ purpose? To kill my partner? To kill your mother? To kill your daughter? For what? A few million dollars that don't belong to you? You are scum." Lionel cleared his throat and spat the wad on to the dirt floor.

Quinn laughed but it was mirthless. "Well, now. Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black? "

"Kiss my ass."

"You're a prideful bastard, Lionel, but your loyalty will only go so far. When they kill you – and they will – they will kill your friends. Then what will you have gained? Nothing. "

Lionel pondered the question. There was no love lost for the egotistical, arrogant, murdering bastard sitting across from him, but he had to admit that the question was making him think. What will he have gained by sacrificing his friends?

Lionel dropped his shoulders in defeat and hung his head. "Yeah, you're right, I will have gained nothing." Then he raised his head and gave Quinn a chilling smile. "But at least you will be dead, too."


	40. Chapter 40

_**Poor Lionel.**_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"Let me kill him," Bogle snarled as he paced the ground outside of the warehouse. It was hot and his patience was wearing thin. He needed to kill something or someone, and the two men tied up were perfect for him to vent his rage on.

"You can't," the tall man said as he took a puff from his cigarette.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't?"

"He knows where Joss Carter and Quinn's daughter are hiding."

Bogle stopped pacing. He ran his hands thru his hair. "Fuck!" Everything that could go wrong, was. Everything he banked his future on, was falling apart with each second that passed. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.

"That is all the more reason to kill him," Bogle replied. He readied his weapon. "He had his chance to tell us." He turned on his heel, but was stopped when his arm was grabbed.

"The boss said not to kill him until we got the information."

"I don't give a fuck what the boss said; I'm the one in charge here. Besides, I get my orders from someone else." Pulling away, he shoved the glock into the waistband of his slacks, then yanked the door open and hurried inside.

"Look who's back," Lionel greeted sarcastically to his captor. There was no way he was going to let the bad guys get the upper hand. He would go down fighting – until he couldn't.

"You're going to tell me what I need to know," Bogle demanded harshly.

"Well, you're wasting your time, because I don't know anything," Lionel stated.

"We both know you're lying."

The laugh came out as a cough as Lionel shifted in his chair. "Yeah. Pretty sure you're an expert on truth telling."

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," Bogle informed coldly. His fingers itched to pull the trigger and put the pain in his ass out his misery.

"Easy way?" Lionel raised the eyebrow over his good eye. "What? Are you going to beat me again? Break my other hand?" he taunted.

"That's just momentary. No," Bogle rejected Lionel's suggestions. "I'm going to put you out of my misery once and for all."

"Good. I'm tired of fucking around."

"I'm glad we could finally agree on something."

"Tell me, what part of your soul did you have to sell to avoid going to prison after murdering Christopher Zambrano?"

Bogle paused. "Excuse me?"

"When I find one, I will. You killed a man – an innocent man – in cold blood for HR while you worked for the FBI," Lionel said without pause. He was going to die, but he was going to confront his executioner eye to eye as he pulled the trigger.

"You know who I am?"

"Took me a minute...especially after you rung my bell. But I never forget a face. Agent Bogle. Tell me, did your partner get as good a deal as you? Or is he rotting in prison?"

"It's not what you do, but who you know," Bogle replied smugly.

"An HR patsy. Sucks to be you, pal."

"At least I'm walking out of here alive."

Lionel shrugged. "Maybe. If you don't find out where Quinn's daughter is, and you don't come back with the information, we'll be pushing up daisies together."

"That's why you're going to give it to me."

"Over my dead body."

"We can arrange that." Bogle pulled out his weapon and showed it off.

"Not scaring me."

"Oh? How about if I do this?" Bogle pressed the barrel of the glock to Quinn's temple. "What if I threaten to blow his brains out?"

"I say 'go for it'. The faster he's out of this world, the better we'll all be."

"Hmmm." Bogle reconsidered his plan. "Then how about you?" He turned the gun on Lionel. "What do you say now? Any smart remarks you want to make?"

Lionel swallowed and tried to tap down his fear. "This isn't the first time a gun's been held to my head."

"But it will be the last," Bogle replied confidently. "Tell me where they are."

"Go to hell. I'm not afraid to die."

Bogle lowered the gun. "No, you're not," he agreed. "But I'm sure that you're afraid of your kid dying."

Lionel's eyes shifted. "What the hell are-" Sweat broke out on his forehead.

"You thought we wouldn't know that you sent your ex-wife and son to hide in Buffalo?" Bogle sneered.

Lionel pulled against his restraints. "You son of a bitch!" With everything he had, he jerked the chair off the ground and tried to lunge at his captors. Prepared for the reaction, Bogle easily side-stepped Lionel, then hit him on the back of the head with the butt of his glock. Lionel hit the ground, hard.

In pain, he closed his eyes. Breathing hard, he started choking as the dust from the warehouse floor filled his lungs.

"Now, you're going to stop pulling stupid stunts, and tell us where she is," Bogle demanded, his voice cold as ice.

"I don't know."

"We have people outside of your wife's mother's house." Kneeling down, Bogle pulled his phone out and turned on the video. "Is this it?" He showed the one-story brick house with the planter boxes outside of the windows.

Lionel tried to blink back the tears. His chest heaved heavily as he tried to breathe thru the dust.

"You're not going to win, Detective. No matter how smart you think you are; no matter who you get behind you; we will win. And you and your friends are going to die,"Bogle remarked without emotion. "Now tell us where she is." He pointed the gun at Lionel's head and pressed the barrel hard into his temple. "Tell us, or I will blow your fucking brains out. Then those of your ex-wife and son."

The seconds ticked by excruciatingly slow. Lionel could feel his heart beating in his ears. The end had come. There was no way he was going to win this war.

"Okay," Lionel rasped. "I'll take you to them," he conceded. "I'll take you to them."

Bogle smiled and lowered the gun. "See? Was that so hard?" He turned to look at the other men. "I told you that he would come around. Let our contact know we got their location and get the car ready," he ordered.

He waited for the room to clear before he took out his phone and punched two numbers.

"It's me," he greeted. "I got the information. You were correct that with enough coercion Fusco would give up the location of the safe-house."

"He's a bottom-dweller," Womack replied with mock disgust. "I wouldn't have expected any less. So, when are we getting the money?"

"As soon as we can get the information from Quinn's daughter and then eliminate the rest of his helpers, we'll get our reward."

"And Carter?" Womack wondered. "What about her?"

"There is always the risk of collateral damage during a war," Bogle explained.

"Just make it look clean. The cleaner, the better. I don't need this coming back to me," Womack warned.

"You have my word."

"Let me know when it's done." Without further adieu, Womack disconnected the line.

Bogle pocketed his phone before leaning down to pull Lionel into an upright position. "Now tell me where your friends are," he ordered.

"I don't know the address," Lionel confessed with a heavy heart, "but I can take you to them."

Bogle considered Lionel's proposition. There was a chance the portly detective was lying to them – he would never put anything past a scum bucket, turncoat like Lionel Fusco – but from the defeated look in the man's eyes, he was telling the truth.

Bogle nodded. "You'll take us. Then you can watch as I kill your friends." Keeping his gun trained on Lionel, he reached behind and untied his still cuffed wrists from the chair. "Maybe, if you're lucky, I'll let you kill Quinn before I kill you."

With one eye on the detective, he untied Quinn and pushed him to his feet. "Your daughter better have the information or I'll kill you myself," Bogle warned.

He roughly shoved the gun into the small of Quinn's back. "Move! Time to get my money."  
*********

Unbeknownst to Bogle, a slight figure was sitting at a desk recording every word of his exchange with Womack. Satisfied that he got the incriminating evidence that he needed to finally take down HR once and for all, Finch leaned back in his chair.

It had just been a matter of time before Womack got the call from Fusco's captors, he had just needed to be patient. With the click of the mouse, he played back the conversation:

"_And Carter? What about her?" _  
_  
"There is always the risk of collateral damage during a war."  
_

"_Just make it look clean. The cleaner, the better. I don't need this coming back to me."_

Finch clicked 'stop'. The ball had been pushed down the hill, and now the chain of events were put into a perpetual motion that could not be stopped. Dialing a number from memory, he waited for the call to be connected.

"Mr. Reese," he greeted without fanfare. "You're about to get company."


	41. Chapter 41

_**New update filled with a couple of revelations. Hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"When do you think they'll be here?" Shaw wondered as she surveyed the front yard from her hidden position on the porch. Her extra-sensory skills honed from years with the CIA were on high alert. Nothing escaped her watchful eyes. Every movement, every sound, was filed away for future reference.

"Finch was able to blue-jack Agent Bogle's phone," Reese revealed. "He's tracking their every movement. It will be a couple of hours." More or less, he finished silently. The bad guys were on a mission, and obeying the speed limit wasn't really on their agenda.

"Unless they decide to take a detour and dispose of Fusco at Oyster Bay," Shaw deadpanned.

"You object?"

"I'd miss him," Shaw admitted. "He's like a fungus."

"He seems to have that effect on people." Reese stared at the trees hoping for any movement. He wanted to get things over with as quickly as possible. "I've said the same thing about him." Reese paused. "Hey, do you and Lionel have a thing?" he wondered throwing her same question for him, once, back at her.

Shaw showed no reaction to the inquiry. "No. But I know someone who does. When are you telling Joss?" she changed the subject.

"Tell Joss, what?" Her soft voice interrupted the pair.

Reese and Shaw turned around to look at the woman in question who had managed to sneak up behind and eavesdrop on their conversation.

"I'm going to make another perimeter check," Shaw excused herself and quickly descended the porch stairs. Within seconds she was out of view.

Standing with her hand on her hip, Joss gave her best Warrant Officer look. "Tell me what, John?" she repeated, but this time there was more authority in her tone than curiosity.

Sighing, Reese looked her in the eye. "The men who have Fusco and Quinn are on their way here," he told her.

"When?" Joss asked nonplussed by the revelation. At this point, nothing much was going to surprise her. It almost scared her by the way she was able to go with the flow.

"Could be an hour; could be two." Reese readied his weapon. He needed to be doing something to keep himself occupied and not think of the worst case scenario. "If they don't decide to drop Lionel off at Oyster Bay," he added with a slight shrug.

Joss studied Reese carefully. "Were you going to tell me?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"I need you to stay inside."

"Don't change the subject, John. Were you going to tell me?" she repeated more forcefully.

"As soon as I got things ready."

"You're trying to protect me by excluding me," Joss accused.

"I am."

"I have the right to be with you when the bad guys arrive," she stated firmly.

"I need you upstairs, Joss. Someone needs to protect Ray," Reese pointed out matter of factly.

"I'm the cop here."

"The guys who have Fusco and Quinn are not going to stop with them; they are going to kill you, too. I won't let that happen. Not again. It ends here, today."

"Who's behind this?" Joss asked.

"Womack," Reese answered.

Joss closed her eyes and shook her head. "Womack. I should have known. He's always been dirty since day one." She opened her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Finch has a recording of him putting a hit out on you with the bad guys."

"I'm sure you know who they are, too," she prompted.

"Former FBI Agent Bogle."

"The HR patsy. I remember him. I thought he was supposed to be in prison."

"Guess he cut a deal."

Joss gave a sarcastic snort. "I'm not surprised. He knows where the bodies are buried, and with his inside connections, he could gain access to Quinn's WitSec location and safe-house," she groused. All the pieces were finally falling into place.

"But he's not going to get to you; not if I have anything to do about it," Reese vowed.

"Thanks, John. What are our options?"

"We could get out of here."

"We can't move Ray," she reminded. "She could die. What about Finch? Is there a way he can send in a helicopter to rescue us?" she asked.

"Too risky. And until the bad guys are eliminated, your life will still be in danger," he answered soberly.

"We're trapped," she admitted with a sigh. "There's no way out."

"You're going to make it out, Joss," Reese stated firmly.

Joss blinked back tears. "What about you? Are you going to make it out with me?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I haven't planned it that far."

Joss shook her head. "Heh. Why am I not surprised? What about Shaw? Or Fusco?"

"I got a plan for them."

"I'm sure you do, John. Always worried about everyone but yourself. I thought you got over that."

"I thought we had eliminated HR, too." He started to turn away, but Joss reached out and grabbed his arm to tug him back.

"Don't do something stupid," she pleaded.

Reese grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You know me better than that, Joss."

"I do know you, John. And that is why I'm asking you to think about more than just me and Ray before you go and do something asinine. Don't put your life in jeopardy for me."

Reese reached up and cupped her cheek. Her skin was so soft under his hand.

"Is that an order, Detective?" he chided in a voice thick with emotion.

"If you do something stupid and get dead, I'm going to kill you," she replied around the lump in her throat.

"Sounds like a promise," he smiled.

"Promise my ass," she contradicted. "That's a full-fledged threat. And don't you forget it."

Leaning in, Reese lowered his head and kissed Joss. None too gentle, he parted her lips with his tongue and possessed her. He drank from her the promise of love and hope, but he knew better. Holding her close, he deepened the kiss and tried to will some of her strength into himself.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Joss kissed him back. She tasted regret and tears, and she tried to hold him close. As her tongue mated with his, she prayed that the moment would never end. But it did as Reese pulled away.

Looking at her with sorrow filled blue eyes, he forced a smile. His thumb stroked her cheek as though he was trying to imprint the feel of her skin in his brain.

"Go inside, Joss," he ordered softly.

"John..." Joss began, but was stopped as he placed his finger over her lips. Her eyes mutely searched his for any sign of reassurance.

"Take this." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a clip. He placed it in her good hand.

Joss looked down at her hand. "Won't you need this?" she asked stupidly as her brain tried to make sense of his actions.

"If the bad guys get through me and Shaw, it won't do us any good." He wanted to prolong the moment and put off the inevitable by holding her close. But the logical part of him knew he had to go. But first he had to make sure she was safe.

"No matter what happens, don't open that bedroom door," he instructed.

"I won't."

"Go inside," he repeated.

"Don't try to be a hero," Joss warned. Reese turned on his heel and started down the steps. "I love you, John," she called out.

Reese turned around. "I love you too, Joss." With purpose, he descended the remaining steps and made his way across the yard. A second later he disappeared into the foliage.

Despite her rapid blinking, the tears fell anyway. Joss stared for a long moment, then she went inside the house and closed the door behind her.

Then she threw the locks.


	42. Chapter 42

**I'd Come For You**

Sitting in the backseat of the car, Lionel tried to contemplate the next step he was about to take. Up until that moment, everything had been up in the air – until he remembered his phone was in his coat pocket. Now it was only a matter of time before the shit hit the fan. He would cross his fingers if he could, but he was sure that the thought counted.

"What are you thinking about?" Quinn whispered low enough so Bogle and his partner wouldn't hear.

"The seven different ways I'm going to send you to hell," Lionel replied hoarsely.

"I meant about getting us out of this."

Lionel turned his head to look at his nemesis. Actually, he could only look with one eye since the other had swollen shut. But there was not denying the flash of hatred coming from his blue eye.

"Us?" Lionel scoffed. "There is no 'us'," he rasped. Then he coughed. He needed water and a soft bed. He just wanted to sleep for a year and not think about anything other than the baseball games he was going to see with Lee. And maybe her. He began to relax at the thought.

"That sounds painful," Quinn observed.

Frustrated that his moment of reverie had been interrupted, Lionel snapped, "No shit, Sherlock. I got a couple of broken ribs; what did you think it was going to sound like?"

"No need to get defensive."

Lionel tried to lick his swollen lips. "Do you ever shut up?"

Quinn looked out the window of the passenger side. "What do you think they're talking about?" He nodded toward the captors gathered in a circle near one of the cars. Their voices were low so as not to carry, but he could still make out a few words by reading their lips.

"How to dispose of us once they get the money," Lionel quipped. He tried to find a comfortable position, but every muscle in his body hurt. He wasn't sure, but he would put money on his jaw being fractured.

Quinn looked at him in disbelief. "How did you ever become a police officer with your shitty disposition?"

"I don't know. At least I'm not hiding it."

"Look, Lionel..." Quinn began in earnest.

Lionel narrowed his one good eye. "Detective Fusco," he corrected.

"...we need to work together," Quinn continued.

"It's official; you are insane. I wouldn't work with you, if my life depended on it."

"But your friends' lives depend on it."

"What are you getting at?"

"We need a plan to save them and my daughter."

"I'm pretty sure my friends can do that without any assistance from you."

"What if you're wrong?"

"What if I'm right?"

"Come on, Lionel," Quinn pleaded earnestly, "if you won't help me or your friends, at least help my daughter."

"How do I know you won't turn on me? Like you did to Cal Beecher?" Lionel threw back without any consideration. "Bet you said the same thing to him. How did that turn out?"

Quinn flinched at the mention of his late godson's name. "You have my word."

Lionel scoffed at the vow. "That's about a valuable as a plug nickel."

"Trust me. I want my daughter back."

"Okay. Carter is there with my friends. I know your daughter is there, and they don't have any way out," Lionel whispered low.

"What about ammunition?"

"They don't have much. But since it's going to be these two douches – and maybe a couple of more – I am pretty sure that we can overpower at least one or two of them and get their weapons."

Quinn was stupefied by the strategy. "How?"

"We need to distract them."

"Distract them?" Quin repeated. "How? They will be watching us."

"I'm going to fake a heart attack. Lord knows I'm not in the best of shape, and I've taken quite the beating, but..." Lionel paused to think about his plan. "I think it can work."

"And what do you want me to do?"Quinn wondered. "What's my role?"

Lionel gave his nemesis an incredulous look. "Grab a gun. I'll do the rest."

"You think it's going to work?"

"We don't have a choice." The sound of a car approaching cut off further conversation. Lionel turned his head to look at the four men stepping out of the car. "I know him."

Quinn turned to look. "Who is he?"

"One of Don Grifoni's right hand men. What the fuck is he doing here?" Lionel whispered.

"The more the merrier," Quinn quipped.

"Just who the hell did you steal the money from?"

Quinn gave a shrug. "Eh. Here and there."

"You stole money from Don Grifoni?"

"'Permanently borrowed' sounds better," Quinn explained.

"Call it what you want, you dumb son of bitch; I still call it 'getting our asses' kicked." Lionel shook his head. "Rogue FBI agents and the mafia. We're screwed."

"What about your plan?" Quinn wondered.

"I may have to go with 'Plan B'."

"Which is...?"

A hand slapped down on the roof of the car. "Hey, if you ladies are through chit-chatting in there, it's time to take a walk." Bogle opened the passenger side door. "Get out!" he ordered.

"Bite me," Lionel replied defiantly. Despite ripping open the cut on his bottom lip, he curled his lips in defiance.

Bogle reached in and grabbed Lionel by the collar. "You stupid fuck." Yanking hard, he pulled the stout man out. At the last second Lionel tried to recover his balance, but failed and slammed hard against Bogle. "Shit! You need to lay off the donuts."

"What does it matter? You're going to bury me in Oyster Bay," Lionel returned coldly.

"Not soon enough. What's down there?" Bogle motioned with his head toward the thicket of trees. "A trap?"

"And if it is?" Lionel retorted.

"I ought to kill you now."

"I don't know what you're waiting for," Lionel observed sarcastically.

Bogle slammed Lionel against the side of the car. "If you don't shut that stupid mouth of yours, I swear..." He pulled out his glock. "Your kid and ex-wife are dead; you know that, right? You killed them."

"Then let me join them. You got what you want; I took you to the hide out; put me out of my misery."

"Do it," the man who had tortured Lionel, called out in encouragment.

Bogle considered his options. "No. This little asshole and his friends have caused me enough misery, but I'm going to make sure he gets to watch them die. Then he's going to watch his family die." His lip curled into a blood-chilling sneer. "_Then_ I'll kill him."

"Be careful what you wish for, pal."

In reply, Bogle swiped the butt of his glock against Lionel's head. Lionel winced, but he didn't make a sound.

"Get the fuck back in the car," Bogle demanded and shoved the detective in the backseat.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Quinn asked.

"Don't worry. I got it under control." Lionel pressed the sleeve of his coat against the wound to stem the bleeding.

"If you mean 'under control' is bleeding all over the place because he beat the shit out of you, then, yeah. I think you do," Quinn quipped with a scoff.

"It's part of the plan."

"Ah. The one that is going to get us out of here. I underestimated you, Detective," Quinn praised.

"Heh. Most people do."

"Where are we?"

"The late Don Moretti's safe-house."

"Ah."

"You're familiar with it?"

"A little. You?"

"Never got invited," Lionel admitted. "Heard the Don could throw one helluva Christmas party."

"Yeah, he could."

"And he had that wine cellar." Lionel shook his head. "Wish I could have seen it."

"Wonder if it's still there."

"Sorry to interrupt your gossip," Bogle's partner said as he popped his head in thru the window. "It's time we go for a walk."

"What do you mean a 'walk'?" Lionel asked apprehensively.

The well dressed man reached down and yanked Lionel out. "Stop asking so many damn questions. Get your ass out of the car. You too, Quinn."

"I thought you were going to bury me in Oyster Bay," Lionel jested toward Bogle.

"I'm going to bury you right now," Bogle threatened. He pushed the two men forward. "Start walking."

Slowly the group started down the long, worn, dirt path that would eventually lead them to the elusive cabin. All around them the sounds of nature filled the air. Only the rustle of their feet against the dead leaves seemed out of place.

"Why aren't we taking the cars?" Lionel wondered.

"Heh. You ask too many questions."

"I have an inquisitive mind," Lionel replied.

"If you want to know, I felt the element of surprise would be on our side if we didn't drive. How's that for an answer?"

"Sounds stupid to me. Uhhh," Lionel groaned as he was cuffed on the back of the head. He crumpled to the ground.

"Stupid?" Bogle asked rhetorically. He kicked the prone man. Hard. "I don't remember you coming up with anything better." He looked at the men standing beside him. "Stand him up." None too gently, the men pulled Lionel to his feet.

"No more smart ass remarks," Bogle warned. Turning to the men standing watch, he pointed to the right and left of where they stood. "I want a couple of you to break up and recon the area; I think this little fucker has been in touch with his friends and they may be anticipating our arrival."

"How?" one of them asked in surprise.

"I wouldn't put anything past him. And he's been pretty cozy with Quinn," he explained. "Just scout the area and make sure that if they are watching and waiting, that we stop them first."

With a nod, two of the men took off in opposite directions. So quietly they went about their task, not even the woodland creatures were aware that there were trespassers in the vicinity. Life in the forest went on as usual.

"That takes care of that," Bogle sneered with a self-satisfying smile. "I'm sure your friends will be surprised by our arrival."

"If you kill them, you get nothing," Lionel pointed out. He tried desperately to make the stars dancing around his head to stop.

"All I want is Quinn's daughter."

"And we're being kept alive for what reason?" Lionel tried to fathom a logical response.

"Because it's easier to kill you all at once, then load the bodies. No muss, no fuss."

"My friends might feel the same." Lionel braced himself for a blow that never came. Deep down inside he breathed a sigh of relief.

A flicker of an unreadable expression flitted across Bogle's face. Lowering his eyes, he paused. Then he looked at his two prisoners.

"Get moving," he ordered. Except this time there was doubt in his tone. But it was that doubt that gave Lionel a small grasp of hope that things would finally turn in their favour.


	43. Chapter 43

**I'd Come For You**

Her eyes were trained to spot even the slightest movement. Her ears were trained to zone in on the tiniest sound. And her feet were trained to literally walk on air. But despite all of her CIA recon training, Shaw felt a bit of fear deep down inside. It was unusual to have such an emotion that she couldn't explain, so she looked at her watch. The two hours had come and passed.

"Where are they?" she asked rhetorically. A soft beep sounded in her ear.

"Where are you?" Reese asked his partner.

"Four hundred yards from the main house. You?"

"Making my rounds. Figured I might try to catch the bad guys before they get to us."

"How's Joss?"

"Angry."

"You think?" Shaw sidestepped a pile of leaves. Her foot accidentally landed on a stick. The sharp SNAP echoed thru the quiet forest.

"What was that?" Reese inquired.

"Something that is going to give our locations away." An unusual noise made her spin around. Her finger hovered on the trigger, ready to fire in a moment's notice. Making out the source of the disturbance, she relaxed – slightly - and went back to her reconnaissance.

"Bad guys?"

"Two squirrels fighting," she muttered in disgust. "I should have put the acorn out of its misery."

From his hidden position, Reese chuckled lightly.

Shaw leaned against a tree trunk. "Why couldn't Moretti get a penthouse in the city?" she wondered in exasperation.

Reese didn't disguise the humour in his tone. "What's wrong, Shaw? Don't you appreciate nature?"

"I don't mind nature. As long as it stays where it belongs, and I stay where I belong."

"If I didn't know any better, I would assume you hate being out of your element."

"You seem to fit right in." Shaw turned in a circle to do a 360 visual check. Nothing. "Maybe I should ask Elias to give this place to you and Joss as a wedding present."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Reese declined. He wasn't going to take the bait and imagine things were more than they already were. Life had taught him to take it one minute at a time. And right now wasn't the time nor the place to fantasize about what ifs.

Shaw crept ever so lightly to the tree located ten yards from where she stood. "Never hurts to ask. Have you heard from Finch?" she asked. At that moment a familiar beep interrupted and Finch spoke.

"Mr. Reese. Ms. Shaw," he greeted. "I have managed to locate Agent Bogle and the other bad guys."

"Where are they, Harold?" Reese inquired. His eyes scanned the area for anything amiss. Nothing but the quiet sounds of nature.

"They pulled up outside the perimeter of the forest and are making their way toward the main house," Finch relayed.

"I take it that Fusco and Quinn are with them?" Reese asked rhetorically.

"Not for long. The plan is to capture Quinn's daughter, and once they extract the information for the safe deposit box's location, they are going to kill all of you and bury you in Oyster Bay."

"How imaginative on their part," Reese quipped dryly.

"I don't hear any vehicles," Shaw remarked. Her ears were attuned to single out the sound of a car's engine, but the air was quiet. Still. Carefully she stepped forward from behind the tree. One foot in front of the other. She raised her weapon and lined her target.

"They're walking."

Reese paused sharply. "Walking? Where?" Suddenly on full alert, he looked around. Was that branch moving? Before he could process a response, an arm came out of no where. At the last second he saw it out of the corner of his eye and blocked it.

"Mr. Reese," Finch called out with concern in his voice. Grunts and the sound of punches being thrown were the only sound on the other end of the earpiece. "Mr. Reese?" Finch called again. Worry was in his voice.

"I think he might be a little busy with the bad guys, Finch," Shaw replied. Thru the ear piece she could hear a body hitting the leaves and fought the urge to run and help. "Wish I could be there."

"There is more than one in the group," Finch reminded her. "It's best if you stay where you are." The familiar sound of a silencer and then quiet filled the air waves. "Mr. Reese?" He had to remember to breathe.

Winded and wincing in pain from being kicked in the abdomen, Reese tried to catch his breath. "Yes, Harold?" he panted. He closed his eyes momentarily and tried to focus on something else.

"Are you okay?"

"Never been better," he answered. Pulling open the coat of his assailant, Reese rummaged thru the dead man's pockets for identification.

"I heard shots."

"I was careful this time." Reese flipped open the wallet and glanced at the name. It meant nothing to him. Tossing it to the ground, he rummaged a little more. Two clips and another gun. They had just increased their odds of survival. Standing up, he pocketed his winnings.

"Can't say the same for the bad guy, though," he finished. One down, many more to go. "Watch your back, Shaw," he warned.

"Sounded as though _you_ needed the help," Shaw observed with mirth.

"I took care of it."

"Well, there is nothing happening here. Wait!" The tiniest sound made her turn around. A movement caught her attention. She dropped her voice to the lowest of a whisper as she relayed, "I see a bogey at three o'clock."

"Ms. Shaw, be careful," Finch cautioned.

"I got my target lined," she continued and leveled her weapon. The silence was deafening as the trio waited. The seconds passed painfully. Ten seconds later a deer emerged from the brush. Shaw lowered her weapon. "False alarm, boys. It's just a deer." She attempted to relax. "First squirrels, then Bambi; I can't wait to get back to the city were the vermin have two legs," she groused. "And not so much hair."

"And here I thought you were bonding with nature," Reese teased.

"I wouldn't call it bonding. But the deer is..." she searched for the correct word to describe the creature, "...cute. If you like furry, antlered, four legged pests carrying around lyme disease," she added for effect. But her lips tugged into a small smile.

Shaw made another visual check of the area. "There is nothing here. I think I should head back to..." Without warning, the deer froze, then turned and ran. The action was not lost on her.

"Something just spooked the deer. I don't think I'm a...ugh." She felt the cuff on the back of her head, then the world went black. Unconscious, she crumpled to the ground.

"Ms. Shaw," Finch called out. He quickly typed in the last coordinates into the database. The Machine beeped back with a location beacon once. Then it disappeared. "Ms. Shaw!"

"What's wrong, Finch?" Reese asked. Relaxation over, weapon drawn, his body and senses went on high alert. His eyes searched the area for anything amiss. Cautiously he stepped out from his hiding place. Every step was measured and controlled.

"I lost her, John," he admitted. "I think Bogle's men got her."

"Where was she?"

"About a quarter of a mile due east of your location," Finch supplied the information. "I think they disabled her phone."

"That would be the first thing I would do to keep the element of surprise on my side," Reese admitted. But something was nagging in the back of his brain. What was it?

"Do you think they killed her?" Finch wondered. He didn't want to think "worse case scenario" with one of his team, but they had had too many close calls in recent months. Eventually the odds were going to be against them.

"They will use her with Fusco and Quinn to draw me and Joss out." Joss! No longer concerned about the bad guys finding him, Reese turned around and hurried back along the path where he had come from.

Finch watch on the computer screen as his best friend's beacon began to retreat. "John! What are you doing? Ms. Shaw needs your help," he reprimanded.

"Shaw can take care of herself," Reese retorted breathlessly. "I need to get back to Joss." His feet hurried across the moss and leaf covered tundra. With each second that passed, he worried that he wouldn't get there in time. He had to make it!

"I think..." Finch began. If John could get to Shaw and help her, they could stop the bad guys before they made it to the house, he reasoned to himself. But he never got the chance to explain.

"Shaw was closer to the house than I am," Reese cut him off. "If they got her and put her out of commission, that means there are more than we figured and they know where to go next."

"But..."

"Joss is alone with Quinn's daughter." His heart nearly jumped into his throat as he picked up the pace. The memory of holding Joss under the street light on the cold sidewalk as she bled out in his arms, flashed before his eyes. His blood ran cold.

"John, don't do anything stupid," Finch cautioned using the same words Joss had spoken a couple of hours earlier.

"Too late for that, Harold.

"John..."

"You want to do something? This is about the right time to call in the cavalry. I have to go." Reese switched off the ear piece. Suddenly the sound of a gun shot shattered the quiet stillness of the forest.

With everything he had, Reese broke into a run. In his entire life, he had never run so fast. Until now.


	44. Chapter 44

_The climax you've been waiting for. Hope I didn't disappoint._

**I'd Come For You**

Joss jumped out of her skin as the bullet broke the bedroom window in the room next to where she was guarding Ray. Grabbing her glock, she lock and loaded a round in the chamber. Then she waited.

"John, where are you?" she asked under her breath.

Another bullet. Another window shattered. Joss closed her eyes and said a quick prayer.

"Come out, Detective," Bogle ordered.

"She's not that stupid," Fusco informed his captor.

"If she knows what's good for her, she'll do as she's told."

"Then I guess you don't know her very well," Fusco and Quinn quipped in unison.

"Warn her again," Bogle told the guy on his right. The rapport of the gun echoed in the air as the bullet plowed thru one more window. Silence followed.

"I have your guy down here," Bogle shouted out loud enough for Joss to hear. "And I'm not afraid to kill him. I'm going to give you ten seconds to show yourself, or I start shooting. Ten. Nine. Eight..."

"You'd better kill me now," Fusco said. "She ain't comin' out."

"...Seven. Six. Five..."

"You're wasting your breath..."

Bogle lifted his gun and pressed it to Lionel's temple. "Who's wasting time now, asshole?" he sneered. "...Four. Three..." he continued.

Lionel closed his eyes and prayed for salvation.

"...Two..."

"I'm coming out," a voice called out from inside the house. The front door opened slowly and Joss stepped outside. "Put the gun down!" she ordered to the men training their weapons on her.

"Put yours down," Bogle returned.

"I'm unarmed." Joss raised her hands to show she said the truth. "Let Fusco go."

"Give us what we want."

"What is that?" Joss asked. She tried to buy time for John and Shaw, but her ears could hear nothing of their approach.

"The location of the safe deposit box."

"What makes you think I have it?" Joss hedged. _Hurry up, John._

Bogle scoffed. "You make a crummy liar, Detective. Maybe your partner can teach you how to do it. Then again," he sneered, "maybe not. We know you have Quinn's daughter inside."

Joss threw a disappointed look at the beaten man. "Lionel..."

"I'm sorry, Joss," Fusco hung his head in shame. "I didn't have any choice; they were going to kill my family. And yours, too."

"Walk down the steps with your hands up, Detective," Bogle instructed.

"Let Fusco go."

"No can do."

"Then no deal."

"I'm not kidding. I will kill him."

"You're going to kill him anyway. Me too. Isn't that what your plan is after you get you money?" Joss shot back. "Four lives for twenty million dollars. Sounds like you played the lottery and won."

"I more than won, Detective. Now walk down the steps." He motioned. "Don't make me tell you again."

Slowly Joss did as she was told, but her mind was spinning as she tried to remember the negotiation she did back in Fallujah. A suicide bomber had been cornered but he he had taken a young boy hostage. It had taken everything she had to talk him into releasing the child before a sniper shot the bomber dead. They had saved the child. Now she needed to save her partner.

"That's far enough. Keep your hands up. Now the information."

"I don't have it." Joss turned her hands front to back to show what she meant.

"I know you don't. Where is Quinn's daughter?"

"She's dead."

Quinn made a strangled sound in his throat at the news. His stricken look was not lost on Joss or Fusco.

"You're lying," Bogle contradicted. "Tell us where she is, or I start shooting."

"Start shooting," Joss invited. "It's not going to bring her back. Sonseeahray Quinn died an hour ago from the head injuries sustained when your men ran us off the road," she relayed the information in a flat tone.

"Sonseeahray is dead?" Quinn choked. He looked at Bogle. "You killed her!"

"Shut up, you old fool."

"You killed my daughter!" Quinn struggled to break from the grasp of the man holding him. "You son of a bitch!"

Bogle pulled the gun from Lionel's temple and leveled at Quinn. "No, you and your greed killed her. All you had to do was be a good boy and stay in WITSEC, but no, you had to get greedy and steal from everyone who took care of you."

"It was my money!" Quinn shouted indignantly. Tears ran down his cheeks.

"And now it's my money. Once you give me the location, I'll put you and your friends out of my misery. Now give it to me."

"I don't have it; I sent it to my daughter. Now she's dead." Quinn shook his head in disbelief. "She's dead."

"And you'll be joining her shortly. Now tell me where the money is, you stupid fuck!"

"Why is the money so important?" Joss' voice cut thru the tension.

"It's my fresh start, if you want to know," Bogle told her.

"I thought that money belonged to the mob. Won't your boss get mad when he finds out that you stole from him?"

"Fuck him. This is my money. I found Quinn. I did the hard work. This is my reward. And once I've killed all of you and buried your sorry asses in Oyster Bay, I'm going to live the life I deserve."

"Bogle..." One of the men spoke up. "Didn't Don Grifoni say that we are not supposed to kill Detective Carter?"

"Don Grifoni can go fuck himself," Bogle bit off angrily. "That old man doesn't know what he's thinking. He's only in power because Elias felt sorry for him."

"Don Grifoni?" Lionel asked. "You stole money from _him_? Sucks to be you, man," he told Quinn.

"Shut up, scumbag," Bogle ordered.

"And for the record, he does have a soft spot for Carter. After all, she did save his life." His memory flashed back to when he and Joss risked their lives to save a group of dons from the hit Elias had put on them so he could take over the city.

"He has no love for you," Bogle returned.

Lionel shrugged indifferently. "He let me live once, so I guess that was his payback for my good deed." It made no difference to him. Not now.

"Karma is a bitch."

"I can vouch for that." His head, his face, and his hand could vouch that karma could bite back twice as hard as anything. And he was sure that Bogle was going to find that out. Sooner or later. He just hoped sooner was on the calendar.

"Now back to the topic on hand," Bogle redirected his thinking. "Where is the money?"

"I don't know," Joss replied honestly.

"You know that I will kill your family," Bogle threatened. "And I will kill your partner's family."

"Do what you have to. I don't have the information."

Suddenly a cloak of protectiveness fell over Joss, and the fear she felt seemed to melt away. _John!_

"You have five seconds to give me what I want," Bogle said and raised his gun. "Five...four..."

"I'm sorry, Lionel." She looked at her partner and gave a small nod.

"See you on the other side, partner," he returned with a wink.

Oblivious to the signals, Bogle continued counting. "Three...two..o-" he was interrupted as Lionel suddenly grabbed his chest and fell to the ground. "What the hell?!"

Stunned by the unexpected action, the men stood unsure as to what to do next.

"Fusco?" Joss called out and stepped forward to help.

"Stay right there," Bogle ordered. "Get up," he told the prone man. "Get up!" He delivered a kick to make his point.

"He's having a heart attack," Quinn supplied.

"Bullshit!"

"You worked him over like a dog, and he's not in the best of shape," Quinn reminded Bogle. "How much abuse did you think he was going to be able to take?"

"How do I know he isn't faking it? That this isn't something that he and his partner cooked up to try and overpower me?"

"He was complaining of chest pains in the car."

Joss rushed forward and knelt on the ground beside her friend. Pressing two fingers to Lionel's neck, she felt for his pulse. It was rapid. Something was wrong, but before she could put it all together, Bogle delivered a kick. Lionel made no sound.

Bogle looked down at the body lying motionless on the dirt. "At least it saves me a bullet." He pointed his weapon at Joss. "Your partner is dead. We killed your friend in the woods. You're all alone, bitch. How does it feel to know that no one is coming to save you?" He grinned evilly and narrowed his eyes.

Knowing that Bogle was right, Joss surrendered to the cloak and closed her eyes. At least a bullet to the head wouldn't hurt, she comforted herself.

"Her name isn't bitch," Lionel growled and swung his leg to throw Bogle off his feet.

"What the hell-?" Bogle shouted in surprise as he fell to the ground. His finger pulled the trigger of the gun. The rapport filled the air. Followed by another.

Stepping out from the shadows, Reese lined his targets. "Get down, Joss!" he shouted and then fired his weapon in rapid succession. Out in the open without anywhere to hide, the men scrambled for cover.

"Hey!" Quinn shouted to try and make himself be heard over the loud noise. "Hey!" Putting his hands over his head, he ducked to avoid the flying bullets. The ricochet of bullets hitting the ground and wood filled the air.

Reese took shelter behind one of the pillars on the porch and reloaded. Cocking the gun, he loaded the chamber before calmly stepping out and firing. One bullet found a target, followed by another. He scanned the area quickly and saw that Lionel had thrown himself over Joss to shield her.

Winded from falling on the hard ground, Bogle tried to gather his wits. He vaguely heard the bullets hit the ground around him as he rolled over and tried to find his gun. Crawling across the dirt, he pulled himself over to where the glock lay. Wrapping his hand around the butt, he grinned in victory.

Slowly pulling himself to his feet, he looked at the man whom he despised protecting the woman he hated. Aiming, his finger wrapped around the trigger.

"Give me my money!" Bogle shouted at the pair. But before he could fire, a body slammed into him and knocked him back to the ground. "Oooof!" he grunted as he hit the hard earth and the body landed on him. Opening his eyes, he saw Alonzo Quinn hovering over him.

"Give it to me," Quinn grunted and tried to pull the glock out of Bogle's hand.

"Get off of me!" Bogle pushed against the man who seemed slight by sight, but weighed significantly more. He felt Quinn's hand wrap around his. It was now a battle of wills between the two men.

"You killed my daughter," Quinn accused and punched wildly. "You son of a bitch!"

"Get off of me!" Bogle demanded and pushed hard. Pulling his legs up, he kicked Quinn in the mid-section to send him flying backward. At point blank range, he pulled the trigger three times. The sound of the bullets hitting their target filled him with satisfaction. Pushing himself up, he relished in a victory that was short lived as a foot hit his chest and pushed him back down.

"Don't you move. Or do us both a favour and move," Shaw lifted a shoulder and dropped it. "Personally, I would love for you to try and pull that trigger." Sighing, Bogle gave up the fight.

Keeping her weapon trained on Bogle, Shaw used her hand to wipe the blood from her face. "Reese! Check on Joss," she ordered. In the background the sound of a helicopter filled the suddenly still air.

Running down the steps, Reese hurried over to the woman of his heart. "Joss. Joss," he called out.

"Get Lionel off of me," Joss demanded. "Lionel, move!"

"I would if I could, but I can't since I got shot in the ass...again," he stated in a bemused tone. He groaned in pain as Reese carefully lifted him off of Joss. "Hey, Wonderboy, watch it."

"Sorry, Lionel."

Joss pulled herself up. "Where's Quinn...?" She searched for her arch-nemesis. She spied him lying on the ground a few feet away. Hearing his gasps, she ran over to him.

"Joss..." Quinn gasped. "Joss..." His hand weakly searched for hers. He felt her take his hand.

"We're going to get you help," she promised.

Quinn shook his head. "Won't...won't make it. Tell me the truth...please." He struggled to take in air, but it was getting more difficult with each passing second.

Joss looked down at the dying man who had destroyed the city she had vowed to protect. The same man who had ordered the executions of his own godson and a highly decorated and respected detective and a D.A. The same man who had signed her death warrant. She couldn't help but notice the irony that she was holding his hand as he bled out.

Joss' brown eyes met Quinn's. "What?"

"Is Sonsee..." Quinn tried to take a deep breath. He coughed hard. "Is she...dead?"

Joss debated remaining silent. "No."

Quinn smiled. "Thank you. Tell her...tell her...I...I am...s-s-sor..." The unfinished word hung in the air as Quinn struggled then went still. His grip loosened and Joss felt his hand slip from hers to land with a small thud on the ground. She watched impassively. Then she closed her eyes as dirt flew from the ground to fill the air. A second later the helicopter landed on the grassy circle.

"Looks like the cavalry finally made it," Shaw shouted to be heard about the whirring blades. Slowly the engine shut down and a few men jumped from inside. Each carried a First-Aid kit.

"Thank you, Finch," Reese said.

"Hey, can I get some help over here?" Fusco called out from his spot. "I've been shot." A paramedic ran over to render aid. "Another million dollar wound," he joked.

"Just lay there, sir," the paramedic directed. "I'll take care of it."

"It's not over," Bogle stated defiantly.

Shaw reached down and drove her fist into Bogle's jaw. "Aw, shut up." She took pleasure as he went unconscious. "That's better."

"Joss?" She looked up and saw Reese's outstretched hand. "Come here, darling," Reese invited. With a sob, she fell into his arms and held on for dear life. She felt his hand stroke her hair. "It's over," he comforted. "Shhh...it's over."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. She closed her eyes and wished for the world to stop turning.

"It's okay. We'll talk about it later."

"Later," she repeated, but her tongue was thick and heavy. Feeling protected and loved, she felt the strength leave her body and darkness beacon her with promises of rest and quiet. "John..." she whispered.

Then she went limp.


	45. Chapter 45

_The heart to heart talk between father and son, you've been waiting for._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

The ringing of the phone on the coffee table pulled Paul from his reverie. Groggily he reached for the phone and slid his finger across the screen.

"Hello?" he greeted and waited for the voice on the other end to respond. As the information was being relayed, he sat up and wiped the sleep from his face.

"Are you sure?...It's over?...What about Joss?...Is she okay?...Thank God! Where is she?...Wait! Let me get a pen..." He searched for a pen, pencil, something, anything. "You'll send it to me? Thanks...I need to tell Taylor...Yeah, I know. Okay. Okay. Thanks." He ended the call.

"Was that about Mom?" Taylor asked softly.

"Taylor?" Paul looked up to see the gangly figure lurking beside the corner of the entrance to the hallway. "Come on out, son."

Hesitantly, Taylor stepped forward. "Was that about Mom?" he repeated. In his eyes was fear that something desperately had gone wrong. This time. He was almost too afraid to breathe. "Is she okay?"

Paul nodded. "She is. Quinn is dead, and the bad guys are not going to be going after us anymore."

Relief washed over Taylor. "Oh, thank God!" he whispered. Then he burst into tears. Immediately Paul was at his side.

"Taylor? Taylor, what's wrong?" he asked with concern in his voice. In response, Taylor wrapped his arms around his dad and sobbed uncontrollably. "Shhh..." Paul comforted. "Shhh...it's going to be alright. She's okay."

"How do you know?" Taylor was nearly incoherent from emotion.

"The man who owns this place called me and told me."

"Where is she? Can I see her?"

"She's in surgery right now."

Taylor pulled back to look at Paul. "But you said she's okay. Why would she be...? Was she shot?"

Paul shook his head. "There was an accident a couple nights back and her wrist was severely broken. She also suffered from a second degree concussion. Add in shock and dehydration... She's undergoing surgery to repair her wrist."

"So, she's not...?" Taylor didn't dare to say the word out loud.

"She isn't...what?"

Taylor looked down at the floor. "Pregnant," he whispered.

"Pregnant?" Paul echoed. "Your mom is pregnant?"

"No. Yes...oh, shit!" Taylor clapped his hand over his mouth. His eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Taylor...What's going on? Be honest with me."

"She's been seeing someone," he confessed and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.

"Come here." Paul tugged on Taylor's arm. "Sit down. Now tell me everything from the beginning.

"Sunday, when you drove me home to get my stuff," Taylor began, "I...I caught her in the kitchen...you know..." He bowed his head in shame. "They were..."

"Having sex?" Paul supplied.

"Yes. No. Sort of. They were kissing and undressing..."

Paul held up his hand to stop the flow of information. "I'm sure I get the picture."

Taylor looked up sharply. "You're not angry?"

Paul was nonplussed by the question. "Why would I be? We're divorced."

"But, Dad," Taylor pleaded earnestly, "she was making out with another guy. A guy who isn't you. Why aren't you angry?" It made no sense to the teen why his dad was taking the news in stride.

"Because I'm not. Your mother has the right to live her life."

"But I thought with you coming back and all..." Taylor's voice drifted off.

"You thought what with my coming back?" Paul wondered. He was sure he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it being said.

Taylor shifted on the cushion of the couch. "That you and she would get back together," he finished.

"I see. We're not."

Taylor tried to make sense of the news. "No. You have to!"

"Why do we_ have_ to?"

"Because you both still love each other. Isn't that why you came back?" Taylor asked, hopeful that his assessment was correct.

"I came back to get to know you and try to reconnect," Paul corrected.

"But you still love her and she loves you."

"Did she say that? Does she love me?" Paul asked.

"Not so many words." Taylor lifted his shoulders and let them drop. "I think she still loves you. I mean, she hasn't remarried."

"But she has dated."

"Well, there was this guy named Cal Beecher, but he was killed. They were pretty serious. And then there was the guy who saved me once."

"But she hasn't said anything about me, or us getting remarried?"

"No. But-"

"I love her, but I'm not in love with her. And I'm sure that she doesn't love me."

"She does!"

"I guess that explains why she was having – as you said – 'sex in the kitchen with a stranger'. Right?"

"Well...I guess. I don't know."

"We're not getting back together. Not today. Not in a year. We're divorced and we're happier for it."

"It's not fair," Taylor pouted. His dream of a family crashed down around him.

"Is that why you're angry?" Paul returned.

"What? Me? What?" Taylor bristled at the accusation.

"Your lashing out. Your going out and getting drunk. Your belligerent attitude," Paul pointed out his son's erratic behaviour of the past week. "Your suddenly wanting to stay with me." He waited a couple of heartbeats before continuing, "Your calling your mother a bitch."

Taylor opened his mouth and tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. He closed his mouth, swallowed, tried again.

"Yes." He closed his eyes tight and tried to stop the tears. "I'm sorry."

Paul weighed the apology. "No, you're not."

Taylor opened his eyes. He shook his head. "No! I really am -" His words were stopped when Paul put his finger over his lips.

"Son, listen to me: Drunks don't lie. You were angry at your mother. You had every right to be, but that doesn't excuse you from your actions. Every action has a consequence. You did tell me that you hoped she died."

"No, Dad! No! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it..." Taylor tried to take back the hateful words.

"It's too late for that. Lucky for you, your mother isn't seriously injured. But that is more through the grace of God." Paul laid a hand on Taylor's shoulder. "Part of being an adult is owning your mistakes and realizing that sometimes you can't take things back. It also means that actions have consequences."

Taylor wiped his hand across his eyes and took a shuddering breath. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"You have a lot of anger inside of you. I'm to blame for that, and I'm sorry. But drinking... Son, alcohol is not the easy way to solve things."

"I know," Taylor's voice was so small it was barely a whisper.

"You come from alcoholics. I'm an alcoholic," Paul confessed aloud. The weight of shame finally lifted from his shoulders.

Taylor looked on in amazement. "You are?"

"All my life. I know the warning signs, and you have them."

"But I just had a few drinks," Taylor protested. "It was my first time."

"But you used it as a crutch – a way to run away and hide from dealing with what was going on with your life. Taylor, you may not be an alcoholic now, but stay on this road and you will be."

Taylor was at a loss for words. "I..." What could he say to refute what his dad just said? He wracked his brain and came up with nothing.

"I was in the Army, and I saw a lot of drunks pass thru the gates, but I'll tell you that you are one of the meanest and nastiest drunks I've ever crossed. I don't want that to be your life. Because once you go down that rabbit hole, you may not come back up."

"You did."

"I would like to say it was because I hit rock bottom," Paul said, "but I can't."

"What happened? What changed you?" Taylor wondered.

"I met a quadruple amputee who took life one day at a time. He didn't wallow in the fact that he didn't have hands and legs. He pushed himself to complete physical therapy and he prayed every day. I realized that I didn't have it half as bad I pretended I did."

"And you got help?"

"I went to the V.A. and made an appointment. Then I went to A.A." Paul smiled. "I want you to go with me to the next meeting. Meet some of the people in the group."

"Dad, I can't."

"You can, son," Paul encouraged. "You don't have to do it for me or your mom, but at least do it for yourself. Don't become an asshole like I was."

Taylor was unsure what to do. "You really want me to?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Okay. I'll go with you." Paul drew Taylor in for a fatherly hug. Things were better, and the air was cleared, but it was still going to be a long road for the both of them.

"Good. Let's go see your mom. By the time you've put on some clean clothes, I'm sure she'll be out of surgery. I'll know she'll want to see you."

"Can we get something to eat on the way to the hospital?"

"You're buying," Paul winked and rumpled Taylor's hair.

"Hey!" Taylor moved to stand up. "I better take a shower." He started to walk away when Paul called out after him.

"Taylor. What did you mean when you said 'there was the guy who saved you once'?"


	46. Chapter 46

**I'd Come For You**

"Mother, I'm fine," Joss protested sleepily and yawned for effect. Mila leaned over and tried to fluff the pillow under Joss' head.

"I just want you to be comfortable," Mila replied. She had to pinch herself that her daughter was alive and well. But it wasn't that easy. Since the whole HR debacle, she still couldn't help but wonder who might still be around the corner. But she also tried to believe it was over and done. For good this time. Finally.

"I am, or I would be if you would stop fussing."All the over-protectiveness was making her irritable. The pain meds were working and keeping her wrist numb, but they also made her foggy. From the moment she came out of anesthesia, her mother had been flitting around. Her brief visit – albeit tearful and filled with apologies – with Taylor and Paul had eased her mind, but now her mother was driving her crazy.

Mila pulled back. "What do you need? Some water?" She picked up the pitcher and started to pour the contents into the plastic cup on the rolling table top. Her hand shook and some of the liquid sloshed over.

"Mother." Joss tried to keep the sharpness out of her tone.

Mila set the pitcher down. "How about some T.V.?" She pointed the remote toward the screen. Joss grabbed the control from Mila's hands.

"Mom! Stop! I'm not thirsty, and I don't want to watch any T.V."

"What do you need, darling?" Mila asked. Her hand trembled as she brushed a lock of hair from Joss' face.

"Sleep. I just need sleep." The surgery had been successful and the doctor said that in time she would be able to use her hand without any problems. But right now, all Joss wanted to do was sleep. "And Taylor."

"He'll be here soon."

"Okay. 'Til then, could you just...relax? You're making me nervous."

"I just...I'm so happy you're here and alive." Mila's bottom lip trembled. "I was so scared."

"It was under control." And to a point it had been – save for being run off the road and watching her partner get shot trying to protect her. But she would think about it later.

"That guy – the handsome one in the suit – he saved you," Mila smiled.

"And Fusco, too," Joss added in. She would never forget his bravery. Someday she would pay him back.

"It's finally over. Finally over. For good." Mila took a shuddering breath. Joss looked up.

"Mother, what is it? What's wrong?"

Since word has leaked out about Alonzo Quinn's return and demise, and how Joss had escaped the hit, all of them had been inundated by the press wanting interviews. But hospital policy had prevented news cameras from entering the wing, and the police officer posted outside the door was more than enough of a deterrent for anyone who considered themselves brave enough to risk it all.

"Alonzo Quinn is dead. Really dead. Right?" Mila had also believed that all of the bad guys were gone once before. She had to believe that this time was for real.

"He is, Mother," Joss confirmed with a little bit of regret in her voice. She had held his hand and watched as the light faded from his eyes. It should have given her closure and happiness to know that he would never harm another person, but it didn't. She had wanted him to face a court and state his case to a jury of his peers. In a way he had gotten off easy.

"Our nightmare is over."

"But?" Joss prompted.

"Where do you go from here?" Mila wondered.

"What do you mean?"

"Paul is back, but the guy who helped you...what are you going to do?" Mila left the rest unsaid. She might be old and widowed, but she knew love when she saw it, and the two men in her daughter's life had love in their eyes and hearts for Joss.

"I'm not going back to Paul," Joss stated clearly. She might be on meds, but she was still able to decide on her life.

"But Taylor needs a father," Mila pleaded her former son-in-law's case.

"Paul can be in his life, but not as my husband."

"Do you think that's wise?" Mila wondered at her daughter's statement.

"Yes. I've moved on."

"To the guy in the suit."

Joss needed to change the subject. And fast!

"Oh!" she groaned dramatically. Instantly Mila was beside her.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Mila searched for what could be amiss.

"My wrist. I think I pulled something. Could you get a nurse? Please?" Joss let one tear fall to run down her cheek for emphasis.

Mila pulled the covers up to Joss' chin. "Stay there. I'll get someone right away."

"You do that, Mom. I'll just stay here and relax. And wait for John," Joss said sleepily. She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Exhaustion overtook her, and she felt herself slowly fade off into the peaceful darkness.  
*****

Paul walked quietly into the nearly deserted cafeteria. It was late, and Joss was asleep – probably from all the pain medication they were pumping into her; all he wanted was a cup of coffee to keep him awake long enough to head back to the safe house with Taylor. It wasn't safe to go home, yet. Not with all the reporters.

Paying for the drink, he looked around the room for a secluded corner he could put his head down for a minute. As his eyes scanned, he nearly missed the lone figure sitting far off toward the back of the room. But his battlefield instinct zoned in on the man, and he felt himself being pulled in. Walking over, he stopped far enough away to give the man his space, then he spoke.

"May I sit with you?"

Stunned by the question, Reese looked up to see Joss' ex-husband standing before him. "Sure."

Paul pulled out the chair and sat down. For a long moment the two men stared at one another.

"So," Paul began slowly, "you must be John, the man who saved Joss."

"I am," Reese admitted.

"I'm Paul Taylor. Joss' ex-husband," he introduced himself after the fact. He extended his hand.

"I know." Reese didn't extend his hand in greeting. He just wanted to be left alone to think about Joss and life, and how the attack made him realize that he could never be part of Joss' life.

"Why are you sitting down here instead of being up there with her?" Paul wondered curiously. Silence was the only answer. "She loves you."

Reese flicked his tired, blood shot eyes upward. For half a second there was a flicker of...something before it fizzled out. But Paul saw it, and his heart constricted painfully. The mystery man was deeply in love with his ex-wife and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but to make sure that the same mistakes weren't' made again.

"And you love her," Paul finished. Reese shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but he didn't stand up. "I can tell. I just can't figure out why you aren't up there with her when she needs you."

"It's a long story," Reese began in a tight voice. He didn't want to get into his past with Joss' ex-husband. Not right now. Not ever. He didn't want to have to explain who he was and his purpose in life. And most of all, he didn't want to have to explain how his and Joss' paths crossed that cold, fateful night.

"I know," Paul said. Reese raised his eyebrows. "Joss told me everything. You, um..." Paul twirled the cup around in his hand, but he didn't drink, "...seem to have impeccable timing. Taylor told me how you save his life. He, uh, he also told me that you were the man he caught with his mother in the kitchen."

Reese smiled wanly, but he didn't speak. He did, however, have to admire the man for not beating around the bush and getting to the point.

"I'm not going to go after Joss. I wanted to. I even thought about it, but..." Paul sipped the now cool coffee. "Seeing her talk about you almost made me want to punch you out." Reese pulled back in surprise. "I have been informed that it's less detrimental to my health if I dream about it instead of trying to make it a reality."

"Heh."

"Still, I have always managed to set my goals a little high. But even I know when to walk away when the odds aren't in my favour. I want Joss to be happy, and I'm sure that you will do that. Or die trying."

It was almost eerie the way the silence seemed to drag on. Paul wasn't sure what to do next to try and engage the man sitting across from him. It was almost like pulling teeth, but with much more catastrophic results if he misstepped.

"If you decide to spend the rest of your life with her, I give you my blessing," Paul offered without reluctance. "I am sure that with time, Taylor will come around. He does respect you, though. After all, you did save his life too. He says you know your way around weapons and..." He tried to remember the exact words used. "...how to kick bad guy ass."

Paul took a deep breath and released it.

"Though, to be honest – and I am sure that you and I can be honest with one another – I don't think I particularly like having my family put in danger. I'm not sure if I can stand back and watch as bad guys want to kill them. It hurts that Joss and Taylor have almost died twice at the hands of evil people," Paul stated his case firmly and decisively. "But I thank God that they have you and your friends to rescue them and lay your lives down, if necessary."

The smile tugged at Reese's lips.

"Thank you, John," Paul said in a voice thick with emotion.

"You're welcome, Paul," Reese returned with just as much emotion.

Paul drained the cup and crumpled it in his hands. "I'm going to take Joss' mother home. I feel that I owe Joss that much. Her mother can be quite overprotective. Not that I blame her. But I think we all need rest." He stood up and walked over to the trash can.

"If you want to see the collection, I'll be more than happy to show it to you," Reese offered his olive branch of friendship.

"I'd like that. I'm going to take Mila home." Paul disposed of the cup and turned to face the disheveled man in the suit. "Word of advice," he threw out as an afterthought. "You might have developed a cast iron stomach drinking that potent mud in the Army, but this stuff will kill you. Stay away from it."

Reese nodded. "Thanks, Paul. Good night."

"Goodnight, John. Oh. You know, I'm sure that if you ask Joss, she'll say yes." He had planted the seed, now all he had to do was wait. As he turned on his heel, Paul thought about the lone, sad figure sitting at the table in the corner of the empty cafeteria. He hoped that John didn't wait too long.


	47. Chapter 47

_For everyone who has been patiently waiting Bogle's comeuppance. Yes, he's going to get his._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

The atmosphere in the dimly lit, yet expensively but tastefully decorated room was tense – or rather eerie – but the men flanking either side of Bogle, appeared unaffected. Their faces lacked any expression as they stood stock still in front of their boss. Their job was to be loyal to the man paying their cheques. And even as the seconds ticked into long minutes, they maintained their stance.

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking?" Don Griffoni asked out of the blue as he puffed on the expensive Cuban cigar. No one spoke. It was a purely rhetorical question, and not even the most foolish person dared to answer.

"I'm thinking about how you failed me." Don Griffoni puffed again. "I'm thinking about how I gave you one simple task to perform, and you failed me." He tapped the cigar on the edge of the expensive crystal ashtray. "I despise people who fail me."

"If you would let me explain -" Bogle began, but was interrupted.

"I didn't give you permission to speak. The last time I looked, you still worked for me, Agent Bogle," Don Griffoni's voice was even and moderate in tone as not to give away anything. He had all the aces. He held all the cards. After all, he was the Don.

"Where's the money?" he asked.

"I don't know," Bogle confessed.

Don Griffoni nodded and took another puff of the cigar. "You don't know," he repeated slowly. "You don't know." The three words sounded so final. As though they were the nails in Bogle's coffin.

"We're close – I'm close," Bogle amended quickly. "I just need another week."

Don Griffoni leaned his head back and scratched under his chin. "That may be a problem since Alonzo Quinn is dead. And from what I hear, so is his daughter and mother."

"It's a glitch in the system. I have feelers out, and I think I may have found where Quinn hid the money."

"You have feelers out." Don Griffoni paused. "Yeah. I'm sure you got in touch with a lot of your gutter dwelling criminals while at Rikers. What did they tell you?"

"It's somewhere in Switzerland."

"Small country. Shouldn't be too hard to find the safe deposit box with twenty million dollars."

"I just need to get that bitch detective and her partner back here so I can grill them," Bogle growled.

A tiny bit of emotion flitted across the Don's face as he took a puff on the cigar and then laid it in the ashtray.

"I warned you about crossing the line with using profanity to describe Detective Carter," Don Griffoni warned. His tone was chilling. His loyalty was strong.

"She is the reason I couldn't get the money. Her and that fat-ass partner of hers."

"Is that why you ran her off the road?" Don Griffoni asked matter of factly.

Bogle tried to think of an answer that would clear him of any wrong doing. "It was an accident. No one was supposed to get hurt."

"Is that why Detective Carter underwent two wrist surgeries, and Alonzo Quinn's daughter was injured so severely that she ultimately passed away?" The Don leaned back in his chair. "With her death went the last chance to find the money."

"It was an accident," Bogle implored. "No one was supposed to get hurt."

"The bullets and blood at the scene state otherwise. Not to mention the three dead men – men you hired to kill Detective Carter," Don Griffoni informed his startled guest. His eyes narrowed as he studied the man he had trusted to obtain what had been stolen from him.

"Let me ask you a question: Who hired you?"

Bogle was startled by the question. "I don't understand..."

"Let me ask it in a way you can understand: Did you deliberately believe you could go behind my back and double-cross me?" Don Griffoni growled.

Bogle looked to the two men standing beside him for support, but they remained silent. "No." He shook his head. "Whoever told you that is a liar."

Don Griffoni stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A liar. That is rich. You know your track record with the mob and HR isn't exactly pristine. I remember I had to pull a few strings to get you out of Rikers after you murdered Christopher Zambrano."

"That was an accident! We were set up!" Bogle stated angrily. "That bitch reporter was fed the wrong information..."

"I will not warn you again about using vulgarity to describe women. Still, the fact remains that you killed an innocent man – my godson, to be exact – to steal from me. Just as you were ready to kill Detective Carter and Lee Fusco to steal from me again."

"Whoever said that is a liar! My loyalty is with you, Don Griffoni."

"So you deny it?"

"I will kill anyone who says I would betray you."

"I see." Pulling open the middle drawer of his massive desk, Don Griffoni extracted a small tape recorder. "Then maybe you can explain this." He pressed PLAY.

_"It's my fresh start, if you want to know." _

_"I thought that money belonged to the mob. Won't your boss get mad when he finds out that you stole from him?"_

_"Fuck him. This is my money. I found Quinn. I did the hard work. This is my reward. And once I've killed all of you and buried your sorry asses in Oyster Bay, I'm going to live the life I deserve."_

_"Bogle... Didn't Don Griffoni say that we are not supposed to kill Detective Carter?"_

_"Don Griffoni can go fuck himself."_

"Where did you get that?" Bogle demanded and tried to lunge forward. He was stopped by the men guarding him.

"A friend sent it to me," Don Griffoni replied. "He thought I might want to see the real man I hired. Seems you had your fingers in other pies. Pies that belonged to me."

"I was set up! That isn't me!" Bogle struggled to break out of the vice-like grip, but failed. "I never said any of that!"

"Maybe this will refresh your memory."

_"And Carter?" _Womack's voice came thru the speaker_. "What about her?"_

_"There is always the risk of collateral damage during a war."_

_"Just make it look clean. The cleaner, the better. I don't need this coming back to me."_

_"You have my word."_

_"Let me know when it's done."_

Don Griffoni turned off the recorder. "I warned you about harming Detective Carter."

"It was Womack's idea. He was behind it. He wanted her gone." For the first time in a long time, he felt fear begin to take hold of him.

"Womack is getting his just rewards, as will you."

Knowing the end was near, Bogle decided he was going to stand tall. No mafia don was going to make him beg for mercy or plead for his life.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Bogle asked defiantly. The stance had worked for that fat-assed detective, so maybe it could work for this situation, he surmised.

"I don't care if you are scared or not. That is not my concern," Don Griffoni replied evenly and stood up. He placed his hands carefully on top of the desk. "What concerns me is that you deliberately went behind my back, then you proceeded to deceive me. You also set my men up to be arrested for a hit that never took place."

"Wh-what?" Bogle stammered.

"The hit you planned on Lionel Fusco's family didn't quite go the way you planned," Don Griffoni informed and held up his phone. The screen went blank for a second before a video loaded. It was the outside of Cassie Fusco's mother's house in Buffalo. Outside the backdoor stood four men. One gave the sign to enter the residence, and the others followed.

"_Freeze! FBI!" a voice shouted. "Drop your weapons!" There was the loud sound of guns hitting the tile floor, followed by scuffles. "Get your hands up! You're all under arrest."_

"Were you aware that Lionel Fusco's family weren't even in that house? You were set up. You let your thirst for revenge and your arrogance dictate your actions. You went against my advice and guidance. You thought you were better than me. Now four of my men are in FBI custody. All because I trusted you."

"Give me another chance!"

"I would keep you on – if I had it my way." Don Griffoni held up his hands. "Unfortunately, that is out of my hands, because – as you stated – Elias pulls my strings. That is why his men are going to take care of the situation."

As the realization of the don's words sank in, Bogle tried to break free.

"No! Give me another chance!" he implored. "I can find the money!"

Don Griffoni's face was void of expression or feeling as he shrugged. "You really should have thought twice before you decided to try and double-cross Elias," his voice held no pity or sympathy. "Now you are going to learn the true meaning of loyalty."

"NO! NO!" Bogle yelled. "Let me go! LET ME GO!"

"We both decided you should take a permanent vacation out in Oyster Bay. I hope you packed well," Don Griffoni sneered. "Get him out of my sight," he ordered.

Screaming and kicking for his life, Bogle fought desperately as the men carried him from the plush office down the narrow hallways. His cries and pleas for mercy bounced off the walls, and were mercifully cut off with the closing of a door.

Unimpressed by the event, Don Griffoni sat back down in his chair, picked up his cigar, leaned back, and took a puff.

How sweet it was.


	48. Chapter 48

_I know that some readers are not going to be happy with the way Joss and Taylor resolve things, but this is what the characters told me. I went back three times and looked at it with fresh eyes, and there was nothing more I could add or take away. That said, enjoy._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Joss set the go-bag on the floor of her bedroom before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Two weeks away from the comforts of home had nearly driven her insane. Closing her eyes, she ran her hand over the down comforter and sighed. It was good to be home.

She rubbed the fingers on her right hand and took pleasure that there was feeling. After two surgeries and one bone graft, the doctors' prediction that she would heal completely was finally coming true – although she had weeks of physical therapy in front of her. Thanks to Shaw's extensive medical knowledge, Joss would still be able to continue as a cop. Thanks to her and John.

_John._

Joss felt a sharp pain in her heart as she looked down at the bed and remembered the long weekend she and he had spent intertwined after love-making. She could still feel his warm breath on her shoulder as he held her tight against his body. Even in sleep, he had protected her; his arms wrapped around her as though he would never let her go. She hadn't felt those arms in nearly two weeks, and she missed them.

Pulling her phone out, she touched the screen to pull up his number. Maybe he was home, she thought to herself as her thumb started to press the connect. She stopped. Then again, maybe he was out chasing numbers and couldn't talk, a little voice whispered. Pressing the "END" button, she cleared the screen.

"Mom?" Taylor called out softly.

Joss looked up to see her son standing in the doorway. "Hey, T. Come on in," she invited and patted the mattress. On heavy feet full of guilt and regret, Taylor shuffled over to where Joss sat. "Sit down."

Taylor shook his head. "I'd rather stand."

Joss gave him a puzzled look. "What's wrong?"

"I..." Taylor tried to find the right words to confess all the wrongs he had committed during the time his mother had been running and fighting for her life, but they wouldn't come.

"Taylor?" Joss prompted.

Taylor shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Mom, I...I..." His voice cracked as tears clogged his throat and filled his eyes. He ran his hand over his face. He tried to hold back the emotion, but it was overwhelming him.

Joss took his hand in her good one. "Honey, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"This is my fault," he sobbed incoherently.

"Come here." Joss opened her arms and motioned him to come forward. Taylor literally threw himself at Joss. His loud sobs filled the bedroom. "Shhhh." Joss patted Taylor's back. "It's okay," she comforted as the teen wept on her shoulder. No words were spoken until the sobs faded to hiccups.

"T, what's wrong?" Joss asked again. "Talk to me."

Taylor pulled back, but his eyes didn't meet his mother's. "This is my fault."

Joss gave him a quizzical look. "What do you mean this is _your _fault?"

"I was mean to you."

Joss shook her head. "T..." She brushed a tear away from Taylor's cheek. "This is not your fault."

"It was, Mom!" he contradicted.

"Greedy thieves seeking revenge did this," she corrected.

"But I..." Taylor paused and wondered how to truly confess to his mom what happened during the week she was gone.

"But you, what?"

"After I moved in with Dad, I lied to him and went out to a party," he confessed. "I got drunk. Horribly drunk." The memory of the morning after still made him sick to his stomach.

"T..."

"That's not all, Mom," he continued. "I called you a bitch and blamed you for what I did." The tears ran from his eyes to fall onto his slacks. "But-but that isn't the worst thing I did."

Experienced enough to know when to speak and when to keep quiet, Joss sat and waited for the next shoe to drop.

"After Dad picked me up and took me to the safe-house, he told me that you were in trouble again. And all I could think about was how you did this. You and that guy you fell in love with. And that you didn't care for me."

Joss felt her heart skip a beat. "T," she breathed in a barely audible whisper.

"I wished for you to die," Taylor confessed before breaking down in sobs. Covering his face, he wept uncontrollably. Shocked by her son's words, Joss stared and tried to find something to say. But the words failed her.

"I wanted you to get back with Dad, and I knew that you were involved with that guy, and I was so angry. And all I could think about was that your selfishness put us in danger. I figured that if you didn't want to be with Dad, I did," Taylor cried. "It wasn't until Dad told me that you were really hurt that I realized how selfish I had been."

"Taylor..." Joss rubbed his back gently. "I don't know what to say." And she didn't. No parenting book could have prepared her for the confession from her seventeen year old. He had wished her dead?

Taylor took her hand and held fast. "I'm sorry. I swear that I am, Mom. Please forgive me. It will never happen again."

"You really hurt me. When I needed you to believe in me, you lost faith," Joss said sorrowfully. Her heart broke at the thought that she had failed her son and he had failed her.

"I'll do what ever I have to, to make you believe in me again," Taylor pleaded. "I'm going with Dad to his AA meeting tonight, and he's going to get someone so I can talk to at the V.A."

Between everything that had happened over the past two weeks, to know that her son had wished ill on her was almost too much to take. Joss closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

"Can you forgive me, Mom?" Despite being one year away from eighteen, Taylor seemed to have shrunk to the little boy he had once been when he confessed to playing with matches and setting the couch on fire.

Joss reached up and cupped Taylor's cheek. "Let me tell you a little something about a mom's love," she said around the tears clogging her voice. "No matter what happens, we never stop loving our children. They may disappoint us, and they may hurt us, but we never stop loving them. To do so would mean that our hearts would stop." The tears flowed fast down her cheeks.

"I forgive you, Taylor. Can you forgive me?" she asked.

Taylor nodded. "I forgive you, Mom."

Joss pulled him close and held him tight. There were still things they were going to have to work out, but a new door had been opened to them. They had been granted a new beginning. Pulling away, both of them wiped at their eyes.

"Do you love him?" Taylor asked hesitantly.

"Who?"

"Dad. Do you love him?"

Joss shook her head. "No, I don't."

"You love _him_._"_

"His name is John," Joss corrected. "And yes, I do." It felt good – in a weird way - just saying it aloud.

"Do you want to marry him?" Taylor wondered.

"I-" Joss tried to think of a logical answer. Marriage had never been brought up by her or John. Now the cold hard truth of their relationship was at the point where it could be now or never. Did she want to marry John and spend the rest of her life with The Man In The Suit? Or maybe the better question was: Could she spend the rest of her life with The Man In The Suit?

Then that peaceful, secure feeling cloaked her. It was the same feeling she had while she stood and faced death for the second time.

"Yes," she answered confidently. "Yes, I want to marry him."

"I thought so," Taylor replied. But before Joss could argue, he continued. "But he makes you happy, and as long as you're happy, I'm happy." His tone was genuine.

"Thank you, Taylor. That means everything to me."

"Has he asked you?"

"No."

"Maybe he's too scared."

Joss gave a slight snort, then smiled at the thought. "John too scared? Not likely. Still..."

"What's wrong?"

"He never visited me in the hospital," Joss revealed and tried not to wallow in self-pity. Not even a phone call – although the large bouquet with the unsigned card had to have been from him. Her heart squeezed painfully at the thought that he probably didn't love her any more.

"Yeah, I guess," Taylor agreed reluctantly. "He's that guy you were chasing after, right?" He shrugged. "Considering everything, I guess he would be laying low."

"Not funny, Taylor. He's a good man."

Taylor smiled. "I know. He did save me. You should have seen the can of whoop-ass he opened up those guys," he chuckled at the memory.

"Taylor, don't say 'ass'," Joss admonished.

"Geez." He rolled his eyes. "Okay, Mom. Still I'm worried that a man you love and who almost gave his life for you, has not contacted you." He thought for a moment. "Maybe you should track him down and talk to him. I take it that you have his number?"

"I have a meeting tomorrow," she weaseled her way out of committing to anything. The call had come in, and now she was required to give her story to the head honchos. Somehow being trapped at Don Moretti's house seemed more appealing, she thought to herself.

"After the meeting. Talk to him. Let him know how you feel. Lay it out there. If he's half as good a man as you say he is, he'll do the right thing. If he isn't, well... I guess I'll just have to kick his ass."

"That's kind of you, Taylor."

"If you guys promise to stay clothed in the kitchen, I promise to announce myself before entering a room," he offered his teenage version of a compromise.

"I promise. Not that it will matter," Joss added.

Taylor looked at his watch. "Aw, man! I hate to run, but I have to meet up with Dad. We have a meeting tonight." He leaned forward and kissed Joss' cheek. "I love you, Mom." He stood up.

"I love you too, Taylor. Call me when you're through."

"Dad and I will bring you something to eat, okay?"

"Chinese or pizza sounds good," she offered her choices.

Taylor walked to the door. Suddenly he stopped and turned around. "You know, Mom, I stopped by your room one night – I guess I wanted to talk about...something. But you were asleep. Did you know he was there?" Joss stared at Taylor's revelation. "He was sleeping in the chair holding your hand. I didn't want to wake you guys, so I left. He loves you. And if he won't ask you to marry him, perhaps you should. After all, it is the 21st century," he grinned broadly. Hurrying out of the room, his footsteps echoed down the stairs, and a moment later the front door closed loudly.

Joss lightly touched the cast on her right arm. Taylor's words echoed in her brain. Yawning, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. Just a small nap before Paul and Taylor came home, she told herself.

Closing her eyes, she replayed Taylor's suggestion.

"I'll call John tomorrow," she promised as sleep slowly claimed her. Then her eyes flew open and she sat up. "Oh, crap! I forgot Mother is coming over!"


	49. Chapter 49

_Here is an update. Yes, we are getting closer to the end, but first, Fusco has a few words to say to "The Man In The Suit"._

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

"Funny that I should find you here," Lionel greeted the lone figure sitting in the booth at the corner diner. "Mind if I have a seat?" Without waiting for an invite, he sat down. "How have you been?"

Reese looked up at his friend with blood-shot eyes. All he wanted was to be left alone. "How did you find me?"

"You're becoming predictable, my friend."

Reese visibly flinched. "What are you doing here?"

"Damn, you're grouchy. What are you drinking?" Lionel picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. Blanching as the cold liquid touched his tongue, he tried not to gag as he swallowed.

"No wonder you're in a mood; this coffee is crap!" he exclaimed and tried to scrape the aftertaste off his tongue with a serviette. Raising his hand, Lionel motioned for the waitress to come over.

"Didn't ask you to drink it, Lionel," Reese remarked flatly.

"Yeah, you're a hero. We'll take a fresh pot of coffee and a pie," Lionel told the young woman.

The waitress wrote down the request on her notepad. "How many slices?"

"No slices, sweetheart; I want the whole pie," Lionel corrected. The waitress looked at the two men and raised her eyebrows in silent question.

"The whole pie; that's a new one," she muttered under her breath. "Apple or cherry?"

"Cherry. The tarter, the better. Oh, and ice cream. Two pints."

"Chocolate or vanilla?" the waitress asked.

"Yep. And can you take these with you?" He pointed to the cup and carafe.

The order was quickly written down and the items removed so the two men could be left alone.

"Where were we?" Lionel asked as he shifted in the booth to try and get comfortable.

"You were bitching about the coffee and trying to raise your cholesterol to dangerous levels," Reese responded dryly.

Fixing the silverware, Lionel arranged everything neatly, then looked up. "Have you called Carter?" he asked out of the blue.

"What?"

"Carter. Phone. Have you called her?" Lionel waited a second then answered, "Didn't think so. What's the problem?"

"I'm not following you, Lionel."

"And here I thought I was the one who got brain damage from all the blows I received. You love her. She loves you. You saved her. And in the process I got shot in the ass...again."

"Explains the pie and ice cream."

"Comfort food. Unlike you, I'm not used to getting shot. Head bashed in? Hand broken? Fingers dislocated?" He held the cast encased arm and hand to emphasize his point. "I can deal with it; just another day at the office. But that bullet shit... Pffft. You can keep that."

The pie and ice cream was delivered. A moment later a new carafe and new cups and dishes appeared on the table.

"Will there be anything else?"

"Whipped cream?"

"I will bring you the can."

"Now that's a waitress," Lionel complimented and took the knife in his good hand and tried to cut himself a slice.

"Make sure you leave her a nice tip," Reese replied tongue in cheek.

"I will." Lionel looked at his friend. "Help me with this?" He waited will Reese cut a huge slice and placed it on the plate. "Thanks."

"Need help with the ice cream?" Reese wondered.

Lionel picked up the pint and pulled off the lid with his teeth. "Nah. I got it." He dropped a large scoop on the pie. At that moment the can of whipped cream arrived. Reese watched as Lionel drowned the dessert in white foam.

"That's better," Lionel stated and took a bite. "Heaven."

"That stuff is going to kill you faster than a bullet," Reese observed.

"Heh. You should know," Lionel replied with his mouthful. "So, why haven't you called her?"

"I don't know," Reese admitted reluctantly.

"You love her."

"I-"

"And she loves you."

"I-"

"So, what's the problem?"

"Lionel-"

"Is it because her kid came in and caught you guys getting it on? Because if that's the reason for dropping her, maybe she's better off without you," Lionel said. "Kids do that. And I know that Taylor thinks Joss and his dad are getting back together, he's just going to have to accept that his mom has moved on – with you, of course."

"Of course."

Lionel cut off a piece of the pie and put it in his mouth. "Not that you are a bad guy. You're a great guy with impeccable timing and a sweet arsenal at his disposal."

Reese paused to mull over the backhanded compliment. "Thanks. I think."

"You need her. And she needs you. It's like two wrongs..." Lionel stopped. "No, that's not right. It's like two ships... Damn! That's not right, either." He thought hard for what he wanted to say. "You're like two halves of the same whole." He paused to consider what he said. "Yep, that's it. Two halves of the same whole."

"Good thing you're a cop, Lionel. To think you could have been writing Hallmark cards."

"Well, when it comes to you and Carter, the right words have to fit. But if you don't go after her and ask her to marry you, you'll regret it for the rest of your life," Lionel stated matter of factly.

Reese's eyes widened. "Marry? Who said anything about getting married?" Fear grasped him around the throat in a way no bad guy ever had, and he had to remember to breathe.

"Are you saying that you _don't _want to marry her?" Lionel was astounded that he could have called that one wrong. After all, he was a detective with the ability to profile and see the truth amongst the bullshit. There was no denying the love and attraction between his mutual friends.

"I-I don't know," Reese admitted.

"You love her. She loves you. She saved your life. You saved hers. Besides you two look great together," Lionel pointed out matter of factly.

Reese considered all the points to Lionel's argument. The portly detective was right on everything, but Reese wondered if he was correct to assume that Joss would want to spend the rest of her life with him.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Lionel shook his spoon, causing droplets of chocolate ice cream to spray around. "You don't know?! What the hell do you mean you don't know?! You spent a weekend together, and then you risked your life to protect her from thugs."

"Lionel..."

"Don't 'Lionel' me. Either you love her or you don't. And you either want to spend the rest of your life with her, or you don't. It's that simple." He leaned forward. "I may not be the brightest bulb in the socket when it comes to successful relationships, but I've had my fair share, and I know what it takes to make one work. Or fail. Heed this advice: If you let her walk out of your life because you think you don't deserve her or think you're going to hurt her, then all I can say is that you are a bigger asshole than I thought you were."

Lionel took a big bite of his pie. "The two of you need to have your heads banged together," he grumbled as he chewed furiously. "One long weekend together, and you bang everything but your heads together. I don't get it."

"I do care, Lionel," Reese contradicted.

Lionel's eyes narrowed. "You care?! Is that why you snuck into her room _after _hours to spend time with her?" At his friend's surprised look, Lionel continued. "Yeah. You thought I didn't know about that?"

"How?"

"I have my ways, Wonderboy. Although it's not every day a U.S. Marshal shows up to talk to Joss Carter." Lionel gave a sarcastic snort. "How you haven't been caught by now is beyond me."

"Lucky, I guess."

"Lucky my ass. One of these days you're going to get caught, and no one is going to be able to save you. Your best bet is to marry her and let her make an honest man of you. At least it would save the bad guys' knees."

"They deserve it," Reese protested.

"I am sure that orthopedic surgeons all over Manhattan thank you for the boom in business, and they might miss you. But it's time to move on, my friend," Lionel counseled. "Get that life you've been denying yourself. Have someone you can come home to." He scraped his plate clean. "I don't know...maybe have a couple of kids."

Reese appeared stricken by the suggestion. "Kids?"

Lionel laid his fork down. "Scary, isn't it? The thought of a mini-me running around Manhattan with your and Carter's DNA – makes me want to stay on the straight and narrow," he winked. "Hopefully, it will be a boy."

"When should I ask her?" Reese asked.

"I don't know. Tomorrow?"

"She has a meeting tomorrow."

"How did you...?" Lionel waved his hand. "Forget I asked. I should know better than to ask. Wait until the meeting is done, then ask her. Simple. Do you have a ring?"

"Ring?" Reese echoed hollowly.

"Yeah. That little circle of gold or silver with a big ass diamond in the middle. I'm sure Glasses knows a few jewelers who might be able to give you a good deal," Lionel suggested with a grin.

"What about you?" Reese returned enigmatically.

Lionel froze as he tried to slide a second slice of pie on to the plate. "Me, what?"

"Shaw mentioned that someone might have a thing for you," Reese answered. "So, do they?"

"Have no idea. Can't think of anyone." Lionel busied himself with the slice of dessert. "Pretty sure it's not my ex-wife," he said with a shrug. "I know I'm not going to be on her Christmas gift list this year."

Lionel shoved the pint of ice cream at Reese. "Here. Eat it before it melts."

Reese pried the lid off the container and grabbed a spoon. But he didn't eat. "What do you think they want to talk to Joss about?" he asked out of the blue.

Lionel raised a shoulder and let it drop. "Beats me. Perhaps they are going to give her an award for finally taking care of that scumbag Quinn." He spooned ice cream into his mouth. "If it were up to me, I'd give her the key to the city and the mayorship."

"I don't know." Reese stirred the frozen treat. He didn't want to think about Joss having to go up in front of the big boss and explain her actions. He knew she would protect him, but there was still fear inside that HR wasn't over. "Hopefully something good will come from it. IA did clear her."

"IA cleared her...?" Lionel repeated. "How in the world did you know that?" He held up his good hand. "What do you have? Some kind of computer that can tell what everyone is doing?"

Reese kept his expression stoic.

Lionel leaned forward and smiled. "No matter what happens, John, she'll still have you. Just do me a favour."

"What's that, Lionel?" Reese asked.

"Once you get her, don't let her go. And don't you break her heart. If you do, you'll have to deal with me," Lionel vowed.

The smile on Reese's face was real as he replied, "You have my word."

"Now eat up," Lionel ordered. "You're going to have a big day tomorrow."

As the music played low over the speakers, the two men ate the dessert and relished in the peace and quiet and new found camaraderie.

Scraping the last of the cream from the container, Lionel leaned back against the faux leather cushion and sighed in contentment. "So, you are picking up the bill, right?"


	50. Chapter 50

_There are going to be some major revelations in this chapter! I have been chomping at the bit for the past six months for the chance to reveal what had been killing me to keep secret. Now that it's out there, you will understand why in "I Just Called To Say I Love You" Joss was out of town, and how she was able to threaten Lionel with traffic duty in "Saturday In The Park". I just hope I caught that certain je ne sais quoi of Tom Selleck. Enjoy!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Detective Abigail Baker was typing furiously on the computer when the door to the reception room of the office of the NYC Commissioner opened. Pausing, she looked up at the visitor crossing the threshold.

"Joss!" she said with a smile and stood up to greet her friend and former partner.

"Hi, Abigail. How are you?" Joss asked the cool, beautiful blonde dressed tastefully in a navy blue coat and matching skirt.

Abigail glanced at Joss' cast encased arm nestled in the sling. "I could ask you the same thing. So, how is the hero of the 8th?"

"Tired. It's been a long two weeks," Joss confessed. "I think I'm getting old."

Abigail chuckled. "Aren't we all? Seems like yesterday you and I were walking the beat."

Joss picked up the picture of the toddler sitting on the desk. "Is this yours?"

"All mine." Abigail's eyes shone with love. "Although not so little now."

Joss touched the glass. "They grow up so fast."

"Taylor's...what? Sixteen?"

"Seventeen," Joss corrected. Her heart constricted at the thought of her baby getting ready to leave the nest. She placed the picture back in its place. "Your only one?"

"We're trying for another. Soon. Hope it's a girl this time."

"Yeah," Joss' voice was hollow. Her arms ached to cuddle and rock a newborn. Maybe...

Abigail looked at her watch. "You're here a little early," she changed the subject.

"I couldn't sleep, and I was up early, so I thought I'd get this out of the way," she made the excuse. The dark circles under eyes supported her story.

"How's the arm?" Abigail asked softly.

"It's okay. The painkillers help dull the pain. Some."

"I heard about you taking down Alonzo Quinn and the federal agents chasing him. Good job," Abigail praised.

"It wasn't half as exciting as the reports made it out to be," Joss replied with a short laugh.

"It never is." Abigail walked from around the desk. "Wish I could have been there with you." She walked over to the coffee pot. "Do you want a cup? Just cream, right?"

Joss shook her head. "Thanks, but I'm okay," she declined the offer. "I had a cup before I got here. Now I'm afraid that I didn't make the right choice."

"Butterflies?"

"Worse." Joss gave her friend a small smile. "It's not every day you get summoned to the Big Guy's office."

Abigail laid a hand on Joss' shoulder. "It's going to be okay. He's not that bad. Gruff, but his bark is worse than his bite," she reassured with a wink. "Tell you what. I'll see if he's busy. Stay here."

Walking over to the door, Abigail knocked then turned the knob. Poking her head inside, she announced Joss' arrival. The voice was muffled as it answered back.

"You're on, Joss. Good luck."

Taking a deep breath, Joss squared her shoulders and walked inside the room.

"Detective Jocelyn Carter," Commissioner Frank Reagan greeted as he looked up from the file he was reading. Taking off his reading glasses, he stood up from the executive chair and extended his left hand.

"Hello Commissioner," Joss answered and took the offered hand in hers. She shook it firmly but respectfully. She tried not to appear intimidated by the large, mustached man literally looming over her.

"Have a seat," Frank offered and gestured with his hand at the two chairs. He waited for Joss to settle in before speaking. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" he asked politely.

"I'm good, sir," she declined. "Abigail already offered. I am too nervous to drink anything right now."

Frank looked at the sling. "How is your arm?"

Joss smiled nervously. "It's fine. The doctor said that the cast should be off in a few weeks, and with some physical therapy I should be back to my old self."

Frank nodded approvingly. "Glad to hear that."

"I was lucky to have a good doctor."

"You were. How are you?" he inquired. The tone of his voice was not invasive but kind. It was though he wanted to know all he could about Joss.

Joss thought for a moment. "Better. Two close calls with death in a three month period would make anyone a little..." She searched for the correct word. "...paranoid?" she finished.

"Understandable. Your son Taylor," Frank continued, "he's doing well, I am to assume?"

"He's doing great. Straight A's. He may be able to get into an AP class at the local college come Fall," Joss relayed the information with motherly pride.

"Sounds like an intelligent young man."

"He is."

"And your mother...?"

"She's...um...still a little shaken, but she is taking it day to day. She is being a little overprotective," Joss revealed with a tiny laugh.

Frank's eyes danced with humour since he had been – and still was – on both sides of the parent/child role. "Parents tend to do that with their children. It's when we stop being overprotective that we need to get worried. I live with my father," he confessed. "He worries about me, and I worry about my kids – and him, too. And when all is said and done, we worry about all the kids. It's what we do best."

"I couldn't agree more." Joss felt herself begin to slowly relax. She wasn't in trouble – yet, and they were discussing family, so maybe the meeting would end on a good note. She was truly hoping for the best.

As the room fell quiet, Frank studied his subordinate. He could no longer beat around the bush. "You do know why I called you in today, don't you?"

Joss licked her suddenly dry lips. "I suspect that it has something to do with Alonzo Quinn and Federal Agent Bogle," she answered. "Along with the smuggling of millions of dollars from the mob, and the attempted murder of myself and three others."

"You would suspect correctly, Detective." Frank sat down. He made himself comfortable. "I called you in because I wanted to thank you for helping to bring Alonzo Quinn to justice."

"I didn't do anything," Joss protested. "Detective Fusco was the one who risked his life." She couldn't take all of the glory. "I wasn't alone doing this."

"And he will be rewarded in due time. I promise. But I want to talk about you." Frank folded his hands under his chin. "I checked on Alonzo Quinn's mother and daughter this morning. The doctors are optimistic that Sonseeahray Quinn will fully recover. Abigail Quinn is going to take a little while longer. The beating was..." Frank's jaw tightened at the memory of the injured woman. He swallowed hard. "...thorough," he finished in a hoarse tone.

"That's...good," Joss replied honestly. It was neither the fault of anyone that Alonzo Quinn had turned out to be a bad seed. But in her heart she wanted to move on and forget the whole thing.

"Once they have recovered, they will be taken into WITSEC. Probably for good."

"It's best," Joss agreed.

"We can't seem to locate former Federal Agent Bogle. He seems to be in the wind. But we will find him," Frank stated firmly without doubt. "And when we do, he will pay."

Joss tried to remember to breathe and not fidget, but she was anxious to find out if she still had a career.

Frank took a folder from the stack. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.

Joss shook her head. "No, sir."

Opening the folder, Frank placed his glasses at the end of his nose and pretended to read. "It's the AI report regarding this case. It appears that you have been cleared."

Inside, Joss breathed a sigh of relief, but she didn't relax. If the look on Commissioner Reagan's face meant anything, there was more news to come.

"So has your partner, Detective Fusco." Frank looked up and took off his glasses. "I can't say the same for Womack." He closed the folder. "The ADA is filing charges as we speak, and ex-Captain Womack has been removed from his duties and is now currently sitting in the city jail. Chances are he will never see the light of day."

Joss wasn't sure what to do, so she smiled wanly and waited.

Frank intertwined his fingers. "That leaves the position of Precinct Captain open. And I want you to fill it, Detective."

Joss tried to think as the words of the request began to sink in. "Me?" she asked stupidly. "You-you are asking me to be the new Captain?" The butterflies in her stomach started dancing wildly.

"Actually, Detective, I'm not asking, but I am extending the invitation. You can turn it down if you so desire, but I am hoping that you take it. We need you. Manhattan needs you."

"But...wouldn't it be against protocol?"

Frank pretended to ponder the question. "You are a lawyer, and you passed the BAR. You were also a Warrant Officer and an interrogator in the Army. Thank you for your service, by the way," he added.

"Thank you, sir."

"You have been promoted every time you applied, and you single-handily brought down HR and Alonzo Quinn – with the help of your partner. If anyone deserves to be in charge of the 8th, it would be you, Jocelyn. You're what I need to make the precinct good again."

"I..." Joss took a deep breath and blinked quickly to hold back the tears.

"You don't have to start right away, but I'm hoping you won't be taking any extra time off. We need you as soon as possible." Frank scrutinized Joss a little more closely. "What's wrong?"

"There's...someone," she revealed with hesitation. "I don't know..."

Frank raised his eyebrow. "Oh? Is it serious?"

Joss tried not to wring her hands. "I think so, sir. I'm not sure."

"Anyone I know?" Frank wondered.

"Uh...not really. No." Inside her shoes, Joss crossed her toes for good luck. "His name is John Warren. He...uh...he works down on Wall Street. A CEO."

Frank smiled warmly. "Sounds like a great guy. Maybe someday I'll get to meet him."

Joss nodded. "Maybe," she echoed but didn't commit.

"But back to my original offer. I need an answer, Detective," Frank prompted kindly but firmly.

Joss took a deep breath and decided to plunge forward. Being Precinct Captain was going to be a cakewalk compared to the decision she was making regarding the rest of her life.

"I'll take it."

"That settles that." Frank stood up and extended his left hand. "Congratulations,_ Captain_ Carter."

Joss stood up. They shook hands. "Thank you, Commissioner Reagan."

"There will be an indoctrination and ceremony, but I'm sure we can delay those until you are physically fit. There is going to be a huge weight on your shoulders," he warned, "and I want you to be prepared to take it on."

"I will be. You have my word," Joss promised.

Frank nodded and smiled. "I know I do. I will let you have the remainder of your day to yourself. Good luck, Captain."

"Thank you. Thank you." Joss tried to keep herself in check. Never could she have expected the news she had received. "I'll let myself out."

As she stepped out into the reception area, she smiled at Abigail who gave her a knowing look.

"Congratulations, Joss. You deserve it."

"Thank you, Abigail," Joss whispered. "Let's do lunch," she invited.

"Sure thing. Call me." The phone rang, interrupting any further conversation. "I need to get that," Abigail excused herself. She waved at Joss then returned to her task.

Joss stepped blindly into the hallway and tried to regain her composure. Excitement was coursing thru her so fast she could barely contain herself. She wanted to call her mom and Taylor and tell them the great news. Then again, Lionel deserved to hear of the promotion, she reasoned. But as her finger hesitated over the call list, her heart skipped a beat at seeing John's name.

Dialing the number from memory, the call was answered on the first ring. But she didn't give the person on the other end a chance to speak as she quickly ordered, "Finch, I need you to locate John. Stat!"


	51. Chapter 51

_It is with a heavy heart that I have to announce that this is the last chapter. Although I never imagined Joss and Reese's journey taking 51 chapters, I have never once regretted taking it on. It was quite a learning experience to discover what makes these characters tick and to what lengths they will go to for each other. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this – through thick and thin, the good and the bad. But if you think the Careese story is over, it isn't; Joss and Reese still have more to tell about their lives together._

_This story is dedicated to all of my readers. May God always bless you!_

* * *

**I'd Come For You**

Fifty miles outside of Manhattan, the cool spring breeze rustled the trees and gave just a hint of the nice summer that was lurking right around the corner, but John Reese wasn't paying attention to it. In fact, he wasn't paying attention to much of anything as he threw popcorn to the flock of ducks who had decided to make their nests near the edge of the pond. It was mindless and unproductive, but it kept his mind off of what was happening with Joss in the city.

He threw a another handful of the air-popped treat and watched as the ducks tried to dominate one another for the biggest portion. It should have made him smile, but all he felt was his heart sink more. He thought coming back to the cabin would have laid the ghosts to rest, but all it did was increase his yearning to be with Joss.

"Didn't think I'd find you here," Joss' soft voice came out of nowhere to briefly startle Reese.

He recovered quickly and said, "Joss."

"Hi, John." Joss took her place beside him. Her eyes watched as his hand threw the popcorn kernels as far as he could. "So, this is your deep, dark secret. Who knew that 'The Man In The Suit' had a soft side?"

"Kinda ruins my kick-ass image," Reese replied tongue in cheek.

Joss shrugged and gave him a cryptic smile. "Maybe. The bad guys would never believe it if they saw it."

Reese reached into the bag. "How was your meeting with Commissioner Reagan?" he asked to change the subject.

"Good. I.A. cleared me, but I'm sure you and Finch already knew that. He also updated me on Ray and Abigail Quinn." Joss reached into the bag and tossed some kernels toward the ducks. "As soon as they are ready, they'll be going into WITSEC."

"They need a fresh start."

Joss nodded in agreement. "That, they do."

"He didn't inquire about the eighteen million dollars missing from Don Griffoni's vault that started this whole thing?" Reese wondered.

Joss stared at him as her mouth dropped open. "_Eighteen _million dollars_?!_" she sputtered. "I thought it was twenty million?"

"Finch and I decided to make a small donation to help the women get on their feet. Considering everything, they deserve it."

The bag empty of popcorn, Reese balled it up and shoved it into his slacks pocket.

"They do deserve it."

"Anything else?" Reese wondered, but he kept his eyes forward.

"Well, they want to give Fusco an award..."

"Let me guess," he jumped in, "a bullet-proof ass vest?"

Joss snorted at the remark. "I don't know if they make those. Although I'm sure he needs one."

"At least he got his limp evened out."

"I'm pretty sure it's going to be a promotion or the key to the city," she reasoned logically.

"Heh."

"Well, he's run out of ass, so, the next time he might not get lucky. But I'm sure that's not what you want to know."

"What did he offer you?"

"Captain."

Reese swallowed hard before replying, "I see. You took it."

"I did," she confirmed. Her eyes studied his face. "You're not happy."

Reese's jaw twitched. "I'm happy, Joss."

"Then what's with the stoney silence?" She waited, but there was no answer. "You're afraid," she stated matter of factly. "You're afraid that you and Finch's cloak and dagger missions will be revealed. Or that it's going to jeopardize me in some way."

"It could happen, Joss."

"Yeah, well, it won't. I won't let it."

"You don't know that, Joss. So much for change," he quipped. He fought the urge to turn and run away.

"Do you want to break up?" Her question broke thru his thoughts.

"No." Reese's hand curled tightly around the bag in his pocket.

"Do you love me?" she asked bluntly.

"I do."

"I love you too," Joss answered back. "But I guess the more important question is: Do you love me enough to fight for me? For us? You've always been there for me, John. Even when I wanted you to go away and leave me alone, you were haunting me – always just lurking behind my shoulder. And as much as it pissed me off, I realize that I like you there."

Joss blinked quickly. "I know I said some things that hurt you, and I pushed you away when all you wanted to do was protect me. I lied to you when you needed me to tell the truth, and I let my pride get in the way. I am sorry."

"It's okay," Reese replied in a tight voice.

"It's not 'okay', John. I was never used to letting people in to share my life – I think you can understand better than anyone. Like I told you that night in the car, I don't know how to balance single parenting and being a detective and love. It's..." She tried to find the right words to explain what was in her heart. "...they don't teach you this in the Army – falling in love and making it work. But they do teach you to trust someone with your life. And I trust you, John – more than I've ever trusted anyone in my entire life. And I know that you have your doubts and fears about failing me. Put them to rest, John. We're starting fresh."

Reese turned to look at her. "Joss..." he began, but she put her finger on his lips.

"If we're going to make it, I have to tell you how I feel. I wondered how we could make this work if I decided to take the offer. I wondered how you and Taylor are going to get along. And I wondered how my mother is going to take the news that I am married to 'The Man In The Suit' aka 'John Warren, CEO on Wall Street'."

"Married?" Reese tried to describe the wave of emotion that coursed thru him at lightning speed, but his mind was blank.

"It's going to be hard – perhaps even difficult – to try and keep you on the straight and narrow," Joss continued with a smile. "But I am sure that with Shaw and Fusco patrolling the streets, we can still catch the bad guys – and keep their kneecaps intact. I know that it's going to be boring working in that expensive office, but I promise to show up every now and then to let you chase me around the desk so you can give your beautiful secretary a break," she teased with a wink.

"I might even wear my patrolman's uniform," she added for effect.

Overwhelmed by the sudden dump of information and Joss' confession, Reese took a deep breath and tried to process everything he had just heard.

"Are you saying that you want to marry me?" he wondered with just enough hesitation in case he heard wrong.

"No." Joss shook her head. "I'm _asking_ you to marry me," she corrected. To emphasize her point, she knelt down in front of Reese and took his left hand in hers.

"Joss, what are you doing?" Reese protested.

"I'm doing what Taylor told me to do," she answered. Her voice was thick with tears as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small box. "He said..." She pulled out the simple white gold band with a medium sized diamond in the centre. "...this is the 21st century and that I shouldn't wait around and wait for you to ask." She slipped the ring over Reese's knuckle. "So, I'm asking: John, will you marry me?"

Reese looked down at his hand, then at the woman of his heart. "It depends. Who are you asking to marry you: The soldier? The CIA guy who should be dead? The vigilante?" He paused. "The Man In The Suit? Or the guy who doesn't even know what his name is anymore?"

Joss wasn't ashamed to let the tears fall as she looked up at the man she loved. Her big brown eyes shone with love.

"I'm asking the man that I love; the man who risked everything to save my family and save me; the man who would walk thru fire for me," she replied. "The man who has had my heart since day one. And who will have my heart until the end of time." She swallowed twice and tried to get her bearings before continuing, "The man I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Reese closed his eyes and held his breath. It was the moment of truth: To leap or not to leap?

Letting out his breath, he chose to leap. "Yes."

Standing up, Joss took Reese's face in her hands. "Yes?" she echoed. Had she heard correctly?

"Yes. Although there is one problem."

Joss shook her head. "What?"

Reese reached into his slacks and pulled out a small box. "This." He opened the lid to reveal a white gold ring, decorated with garnet chips. "I guess it's a little anti-climatic to ask you to marry me now that you beat me to the punch," he joked lightly at Joss' gasp of surprise.

She stared at him in disbelief. "You want to marry me?"

"Actually, Paul and Fusco want me to marry you. I would like for you to share your life with me," he corrected. "You saved my life when you save me, Joss. Which I hope you never stop doing." He slid the cool band over Joss' finger. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes." Joss smiled thru her tears. "This has to be the craziest proposals ever on record," she cried.

Reese brushed her tears away with his thumb. "Well, we never have done things the easy way," he pointed out. "And since you said yes, Elias said he's giving us the cabin as a wedding present."

Joss looked over at the beautiful two story, custom made log cabin. "I will have to thank him."

"Just not personally, considering you'll be in the company of real law-abiding citizens."

"Well, that will make two of us since Commissioner Reagan wants to meet you," she informed him. "And my mother still has to sign off on you. Oh, and Taylor requested that we keep our clothes on while in the kitchen."

"Might be a little tough, but I'm sure I can abide by his wishes," Reese said. "What do you think about kids?"

"Kids? You mean babies?" Joss asked in surprise.

"I would like a couple – especially if they take after their mother," Reese mused. "And, just so you know, Lionel put in dibs for uncle."

"Uncle Lionel," Joss let the words roll around on her tongue. "I guess I can afford him that much since he did get shot in the ass protecting me," she chuckled lightly.

"Still... An ex-CIA hitman turned Wall Street CEO married to a New York Police Captain. You do know that our life together is not going to be easy sailing. "

"I wouldn't have it any other way. But as long as you promise to come for me, I promise to always come for you," she vowed.

"Any time, any place, Joss." Reese took Joss' hand and placed it on his heart. "Anything else?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "How about kissing me so we can get this show on the road."

"Is that an order, Captain?" Reese's blue eyes danced with mischief as he lowered his head so his lips were mere centimeters from Joss'.

"Get used to it, Mr. Warren," she replied in a cheeky but breathless tone.

"Sounds good to me. I love you, Joss."

"I love you, John." She looked at him in bewilderment as he paused. "What's wrong?"

His thumb stroked her soft cheek. "Only in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine being loved – especially by you," he confessed. "Thank you for making my dream come true." The tears ran down his cheeks.

"It's only the beginning," she promised.

"I'm holding you to it," he said before he covered her lips to seal their vow of love.

For eternity.

_The End._

_***Coming soon! Catch Joss and Reese's continuing story in "No Easy Way Out"***_


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